


The Captain and His Courtesan

by Winterstar



Series: The Captain's Orders [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, F/M, Firefly inspired but NOT fused, Graphic Torture, Hurt Steve, Hurt Tony, Implied Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Medical Procedures, Nightmares, Not a Crossover, PTSD, Revolution, Romance, Sex Toys, Slow Build, Space AU, War violence, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 189,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of revolution.</p><p>Captain Steve Rogers is just trying to pay off his debt to SHIELD, carting cargo from the Rim worlds to the Inner Belts in his bucket of bolts ship, the <i>Howling Commando</i>. He keeps a low profile and makes sure his crew is safe and happy. But the universe has a different plan for the once highly decorated Captain of the Honor Guard. The universe drops a Courtesan by the name of Tony Stark into his life. The Captain doesn't like it, but Bucky convinces him that providing transport to the most elusive Courtesan in the Guild could be their ticket to freedom. His crew from the engineer with anger management issues to the pilot who may be a beautiful but deadly assassin wants him to take the commission. What ends up being a simple commission puts his crew in jeopardy and could change all of humanity, because the Courtesan is not really just a pretty face and the Captain of the Honor Guard can fall in love far too easily with a man of conviction - and Tony Stark is a man of conviction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All author's notes are at the end of the entire work. No author's notes will be included in chapters.
> 
> Marvel owns the characters. I own the story. Please do not copy, distribute or otherwise share this work without my expressed consent.

_Author’s note: If you are reading this story and you did not access it through Archive of Our Own, this is a stolen work, posted without the author’s consent. Please go directly to Archive of Our Own and access the author’s page under the author’s pseudonym Winterstar. Thank you._

“Fury won’t be happy.” He scrolls past the logistics of the mission. He’s not interested in that, he knows how to haul cargo from one end of a star system to another; he’s been doing the job since they defrosted him.

“Then he should buck up and get us some God damned real commissions. SHIELD is shit and you know it, Steve,” Bucky says and tosses his cigarette butt onto the grated floor of the ship. 

Steve scowls, bends, picks it up, slips it into the chest pocket of Bucky’s leather jacket and says, “We don’t transport human cargo, I don’t like it. I’m not a slaver.”

“It isn’t human cargo.” 

Steve glares at him.

“Well, not that kind of human cargo, anyhow. Come on, Steve, we need this commission. We’re gonna lose the Howling Commando if we don’t. Where’ll that put everyone? Bruce? Clint? Come on,” Bucky says and eyes him. 

Teetering, Steve’s teetering and he doesn’t want to be teetering. When he acquired the ship through his contract with SHIELD and rented the rights to the shipping lanes from SHIELD, he promised he’d keep it clean, have a little integrity. He knew it would mean he’d give up the more lucrative runs, slave runs were the best paying as were chasing the cartels in the Ring runs. He refused those all the time much to the chagrin of Fury and Hill. He had standards, granted standards that were out dated by hundreds of years. Sometimes he wished they’d never found his stasis pod. 

“He isn’t a slave, Steve. He needs safe passage, that’s all.” Bucky studies him, his eyes open and bright and cunning. 

Steve can read Bucky like they grew up together, which they did. It’s been a weird last few years, waking up to a whole new world, new culture, new advancements, and then finding his friend had been awakened years earlier, trained as an assassin. Saving Bucky had been his first assignment after being defrosted by the Feds; it had also been his last. They’d wanted him to destroy Bucky, Steve chose to save him instead. The Feds discarded Steve’s commission immediately, leaving both Steve and Bucky floundering for purchase in this new world. Luckily, Bucky knew a bit about what it was to live in the 23rd century, how there was no Earth anymore, everyone lived in colonies and the colonies were ruled by different corporations which substituted as a pseudo-government. The Federated Corps found Steve, thawed him, and demanded he pay off his debts to them by going on missions. 

It worked for a while, until the mission, until Bucky. 

Of course, he didn’t know it was Bucky at the time; the Winter Soldier scared the shit out of everyone. Just the name still instilled terror in everyone’s heart – caused people and governments to scatter. They used this to their advantage as much as possible. Though he understands how Bucky wishes to leave that part of his life behind, the nightmares plague him. Steve wakes him up from his bunk to quiet him. They often sit in the galley in the middle of the night cycle, sipping illegal brew and listening to their memories of a time forgotten.

Steve looks at the specifics at the details, the commission. On the surface, it sizes up about right – and it is an easy mission. No big issues, just a simple cart some sex slave to the Inner Belts. He flicks on the name of the slave and he frowns. 

Not a slave then, but worse. A courtesan. 

“You know I don’t agree with the whole courtesan society,” Steve says. “Just as bad as slaves.”

“Will you get off your high horse?” Bucky says and slams his fist down, it reverberates through the hull of the ship. The metallic robotic arm gleams in the dim hold. “Courtesans are highly valued part of society these days.”

“Just because I live in the 23rd century doesn’t mean I have to agree with it,” Steve says and tosses the pad on the console. “Turn love into a business-.”

“Steve,” Bucky says and places his hand, his human hand, on Steve’s shoulder. “Life isn’t like what we left behind. We gotta make do with what we have now.”

“Make do,” Steve says and shakes his head. “I made a pledge, back in the day.”

“Back in the day life wasn’t control by the Corps, especially not the Feds. Back in the day, we fought for something else, something no one believes in anymore, Steve. We gotta live in the times we’re dealt.” Bucky waits, hovering near him.

Drifting to the port window showing the sliver of the planet’s moon like a sickle in the sky, Steve gazes out while he tries to quell the rapidity of his heart. It wasn’t like this when he went down, it wasn’t like this at all. The world had been at war, the first space war. Everything changed then, and he woke up to find out that the war had been won – all for naught. The Corps ended up subsuming the infrastructure of the governments – instead of winning a ground battle, a full out war – they won through subversion and financial means. Everything is ruled by money and it sickens him.

“Back in the day, I made a pledge, a vow to keep people safe.”

“The Honor Guard is dead, Steve,” Bucky says and he’s moved to stand right beside him. “No one cares about honor or integrity or noble shit anymore. If we’re going to survive we have to live with the times.”

“I suppose,” Steve says. What he wants to say is that it is easier for Bucky. Bucky’s been awake longer at intervals throughout the centuries Steve slept. The Corps would awaken Bucky and use him for their Machiavellian means and then put him back into stasis. At least he has some memories of the intervening years.

“The sponsor is willing to pay an arm and a leg to get the Courtesan to the Inner Belts.”

Gripping the joist of the hull, Steve leans against his arm and scowls. “Sure, he does. With all the uprisings and their damned in-fighting with the Corps it will be like a suicide run.”

“Thought that might make it more interesting for you,” Bucky says and knocks him with his arm.

“Bringing some Courtesan to their john isn’t what I think of as interesting.”

“Really, even if said Courtesan is the one and only Tony Stark?” Bucky says and hits the console to bring up a hologram. 

“Stark? Really?” Steve stretches and retrieves the pad again to search through the commission report. “He rarely takes on a sponsor.”

“Seems Stark Corp is in need.” 

“I thought this was a Fed run?”

“It is,” Bucky says. “The sponsor is from the Feds and they’re looking to collaborate with Stark Corp.”

“Stane is ruining Stark Corp,” Steve says with a frown. “I don’t get why Stark doesn’t take control of his own Corp?”

“Nobody does,” Bucky replies and grabs the pad from Steve. “Listen, we need this commish. It’ll more than help pay the bills, maybe we can make some inroads to get out of our contract.”

Steve chuckles, and he thought he was the optimistic one. “Nothing will pay off my contract, you know that.”

Both of them know that Steve contract to SHIELD might as well be indentured servitude. The Feds subcontracted out Steve’s debt to SHIELD – something that Steve had no recourse over. Being indebted to the Feds is bad enough, having to deal with the nebulous SHIELD leaves a sour taste in Steve’s mouth.

In this regard, Bucky is lucky, or unlucky depending how Steve looked at it. Because Bucky had been awakened throughout the centuries to do the dirty work of an assassin, his debt had been decreased considerably. The amount he owes should be paid off before the standard year is out. The thought of losing Bucky to freedom hurts hard in Steve’s chest like a wrecking ball. 

“You’ll see, this will be worth it. Just give ‘em your John Hancock,” Bucky says and taps on the pad.

Frowning, Steve wonders if Bucky even knows what that means _John Hancock_ , he wonders if anyone knows what it means. Steve has always been a student of history. Earth history, American history had been a favored subject back in the day. He’d read stories and integrate with all the games when he was at war. It passed the time. Not a lot of people understand that war is a lot of hurry up and wait. Going to war means you sit around a lot, train a lot, drink a lot, wait a lot, then everything goes to hell and you scream and fight and watch your buddies get blown to hell. But mostly, you sit around and wait – with dread – for the battle to begin. 

“I just don’t get why Stark is selling himself for sex,” Steve says. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and slumps down in the pilot’s chair. The cockpit is cramped and small on the Howling Commando. It isn’t one of the new luxury liners or wide openers that the rich and famous ride on. Leaning back, Bucky kicks out his long legs and balances them on the console. He’s careful of the instruments; Natasha would kill him if he messed with her territory. 

“I don’t think it’s about the sex but the money, you know,” Bucky says and pulls out his stash of cigarettes. He never lights them just plays with it. Rolls it around, perches it on his lips and then tucks it back into his leather coat. “Stane ground that Corp into the dirt and he’s got one ace up his sleeve, Stark.”

“I thought Stark was an engineer or something.” Steve settles against the side of the bulkhead. “He’s like some kind of genius, right?”

“Dropped out after his father and mother died in the big crash.” Bucky shrugs. “Doesn’t matter now, he’s a Courtesan, all trained and legal.”

“None of it makes sense, Buck, you know it. It smells dirty.” Steve shakes his head, he doesn’t like putting his ship or his crew in danger for a commission he cannot trust. This Stark business is all kinds of wrong.

“Did you take a look at what Stane’s willing to pay us to drop off fancy pants to his sponsor?” Bucky says and sits up. He grabs the pad out of Steve’s hand, flips through the pages on the screen, and then taps on it. “Look.”

The figure is unquestionably perverse. There’s no other way to characterize it. No one, not slave runners, not Ring runners, no one made this kind of money on a signal transport. “That’s not possible. Are you sure the decimal point is in the right place?” Steve furrowed his brows.

“Relax yourself, stupid, it’s on the up and up. I’m telling you this is your ticket out. It’s my ticket out. It’ll buy off Bruce and Clint, too. All of us will be out.” Bucky’s plea is so earnest it pierces straight through Steve’s chest.

He rubs against his sternum until he realizes he’s doing it and stops. The faded star on his chest is nearly threadbare but he can still see the slight sheen of it in the dimly lit cockpit. “All of us?”

“And we could purchase the Commando, too.” Bucky taps the pad again. “Think about that. You know Tasha is not going to wait for me forever, right? She doesn’t have a contract like mine hanging over her head. She’s a free woman.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. Everyone knows the questions about that freedom still run rampant, probably all the way to the Inner Belts. “You are not making this about your love life, Bucky. I am not taking a tainted run just so you can keep your bunk warm.”

“She’s the best pilot you’ve ever had.”

“She’s good, but she’s better at other things,” Steve says and crosses his arms. They all know that Natasha’s skill set includes being able to sneak them through tight spots and retrieve the information they need to have a successful run. “But I don’t decide on runs just because you need to have her sing you to sleep at night.”

Bucky chuckles and bows his head, then looks back up at Steve. “You are a jerk, you know that, right?” Standing, he slaps Steve on the arm. “Get with the program, we need a commish that will pay the damned bills. We’re lucky to have this one fall in our lap-.”

“That’s my point, why us? Why would Stane be sending out the golden egg in our hunk of junk.”

“Hey now, stop it with the words – the very insulting words against the ship,” Bruce says as he enters the cockpit. There’s little to no room left for another person. “And why are you insulting her? She has a very delicate disposition, you know.”

“Cap won’t agree to a commission that is like tenfold higher than we would make in a freaking year.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Steve says.

“Tenfold?” Bruce says. 

Bucky yanks the pad out of Steve’s hand and gives it to Bruce. “Check it out. We could be sitting pretty.” 

“I don’t – I don’t – is that legal?” Bruce sounds a little strained.

“Yep, it’s what the Stark Corp is willing to pay. We can get enough off of it to buy us all free of our contracts and then some. The Howling Commando would be ours.” Bucky points to the figure. “What say you, Bruce? Huh?”

“Don’t listen to him, Doctor Banner, he just wants to make sure his bunk stays occupied-.”

“Occupied with what Steve?” Natasha smiles at him as she shoves her way into the cockpit. 

Steve glances away and offers a small prayer of thanks for the darkened cockpit. From the heat of his face he knows he colored red. 

“Tasha, take a look,” Bucky says and pulls the pad from Bruce’s hands to Natasha’s. “That’s the commission we could be running, but Cap’s not interested.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested, I said-.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Natasha eyes Steve; she’s always been smart. Steve likes smart. She knows when Bucky’s pulling one over on her and she never lets him. It’s one of the qualities Steve always likes about her. 

“It’s a transport for a Courtesan,” Bucky confesses. He lifts his shoulder like it’s nothing. He’s still playing the game, trying to get everyone to believe him, take his side. Steve only presses his hand to his temple and sighs. 

“A Courtesan transport which should be on one of the luxury liners, not a cargo ship running the lanes,” Steve says and crosses his arms. Two can play at this game. 

“Why do they want us? Must be hiding from something,” Natasha says and purses her lips as she does when she’s either about to strike like a spider or about to kill someone – which can be one and the same thing. 

“Exactly,” Steve says and he’s triumphant.

“That is not why you don’t want to do it. You and your priggish ass don’t want to do it because of your high moral standard. What about the rest of us? We’re all locked on this boat same as you, maybe not as long as you, but give us a break, Steve, we need something to change our luck. This commish will do it.” Bucky jabs at the pad with his finger.

Steve considers Bucky; it isn’t a plea and Steve knows that his friend likes to manipulate him. It isn’t that hard to acknowledge, but the straight up facts are that Bucky’s right. His whole crew is stuck here with him, working off their debts for the Feds through their contracts with SHIELD. None of it is nice, and none of it is fair. It is exactly what Steve fought against in that long ago war. 

“What do you think, Natasha?” Only Bucky calls her Tasha, everyone else sticks with Natasha with and occasional Nat from Clint.

She scans the file and tilts her head, eyebrow arched. “Seems dangerous. There’s something not here on the surface. Pretty clear Stark Corp is looking to align itself with someone high up in the Feds.”

“Never know who,” Steve adds.

She agrees with a little bob of her head. “No, we can’t. But if we don’t we can’t find out who either. This way, if we do it, either way we’ll come out on top because we’ll have leverage.”

“How do you figure?”

“Who’s ever pulling the strings on this deal wants it, not because of sex, but because of power. Stark Corp holds all the power in the tech, whether or not Stane’s depleted its resources. Courtesan or not, Tony Stark is the key to that.”

“So why is Stane letting him out of his sight?” Steve asks.

“That is the question, Captain. Why,” she says with a quirk to her smile.

“Well?” Bucky asks. He glares at Steve expectantly. It isn’t an expression of disdain but one of confidence. They know Steve can’t resist if it means clearing out corruption, even if it is small bit of grit. If he can clean it out, he’ll do it. 

Waving at Bucky, Steve says, “Okay, sure. Why not?” Bucky wallops and hoots as Steve rolls his eyes. “I have a feeling I am going to come to regret this decision.”

Bucky slaps him on the back. “Just accept the commission.” He offers the pad to Steve. 

“Okay, okay,” Steve says and lifts up the screen. He finds the icon for acceptance of the commission. If it had been an official commission, there would not have been any question – those that are assigned by SHIELD are not debatable. They have to do them whether or not Steve agrees or likes them. Sometimes, it turns Steve’s stomach to complete the missions. Bucky might be right, this could be a way out of hell for all of them. 

He engages the identification protocol after ensuring that SHIELD hasn’t already scheduled them for a trip. Their slate is clean. The pad buzzes at him. A beam of light scans his iris, then he places his middle finger on the pad and it checks for life signs. It confirms and then beeps that the transaction has been completed, payment upon final transport of goods. Steve winces at the term.

Putting the slim pad aside, he raises a brow at Bucky and says, “So when do we meet him?”

“This afternoon, you better wash behind the ears, you jerk. I hear he likes ‘em young, tall, and sweet.”

“You jerk,” Steve mutters as he walks his way down the corridor. It isn’t Bucky who follows him but Natasha.

“Hey.”

Peering over his shoulder he stops and waits. When Natasha has something on her mind, you don’t stop her. “Yeah?”

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know,” Steve says but doesn’t elaborate. This isn’t what Natasha stopped him for. It’s something else, he can always tell when she’s holding back.

“Be careful of Stark, he’s got his own agenda,” Natasha says but decides it’s enough and turns back to the cockpit. 

Steve stands in the belly of his ship. He pats her hull and says, “Why do I keep getting myself into these messes?”

She doesn’t answer, but Steve already knows the answer. It’s part of his make-up. When that thought crosses his mind, he cringes and tries to shove the memories of his make-up, his making, to the far reaches of the galaxy where it belongs. No one, not even him, should be tormented with those memories.


	2. Chapter 2

By the afternoon, Steve’s elbows deep into the engine. He knows he’s avoiding the situation, but if it means a clean engine room and working parts to the old bucket, he’s happy. As a debtor to the Feds, Steve should have been hauling rocks around on a distant moon somewhere. Manual labor is still the cheapest around, even with robotics and everything in the stars being automated. Human life is cheap and replacing a human is cheaper than a robot, so the harsh world of mining moons and asteroids still falls squarely on the shoulders of humans, usually debtors or slaves – though sometimes he doesn’t know the difference between to two classifications. 

He’s lucky to have the ship and his crew. He shouldn’t and he knows that, but as a special case, the Feds couldn’t just ship him off to a Debtor’s moon. The story of his rescue of the main human colony (the one that eventually spawn all of the Inner Belts and beyond) remains legend and stuff of childhood bedtime stories. When they discovered him in the stasis trapped in ice, he should have been dead, but his enhanced super serum body, one of the only products of Project Rebirth, saved him. The Feds thought putting him on the Press Circuit would be the best bet, and it worked for a while, but he got bored and couldn’t stand his handler. Ended up punching a bunch of the Naturals and they didn’t take kindly to it. They gave him a second chance when they sent him after the Winter Soldier, and, well, that didn’t end well at all -- for them. So he ended up working his debt off as a shipper and runner. 

He moves cargo for SHIELD which has a subcontract from the Feds. SHIELD effectively owns his ass because he couldn’t pay off his debt in this lifetime, even if he saved every cent. Once in a while they allow him to commission on his own as long as he sends back a substantial cut of the fare to them. He’s only done it once or twice a standard year, because most independent commissions meant seedy dealings and he can’t afford to be arrested by any of the Corps. They were just looking for a reason to sully his name and reputation, stick him in a Prison Camp or a Debtor’s Moon to rot away the rest of his life. He doesn’t want that and he doesn’t want to ruin the names of the people who meant something to him, once upon a time. He refused to do that to the memory of Doctor Erskine or Peggy. No one cared or remembered them but him, yet it matters to him. 

He wipes clean the rest of the interface and slides it back into place. He should get ready, plus he needs to inform SHIELD of the commission so they don’t get placed on the roster. Climbing to his feet, he closes down the panel and sends the computer on a diagnostic subroutine. If he’s taking Stark to the Inner Belts he wants to guarantee the engines of the old girl won’t give out on him. They’ll make several stops along the way; the ship isn’t the kind that can do long hyper jumps. He can do a few short stops to deliver some goods along the way; he often does to the Rim worlds. He likes to do the right thing, and watching babies die of starvation is not the right thing. The whole crew accepts his need to stop off at these places and deliver what they can afford to spare. This time they’ve been able to acquire quite a bit of foodstuffs as well as clothing. It will be a good run.

He dusts off his dark blue trousers and takes the rag to wipe his hands. He’ll need to shower before the meeting. How does he get himself into these messes?

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Turning, Steve sees Bruce notched against the bulkhead near the gantry to the engine room. He waves and gathers up the tools to put them in storage. He locks the cabinets. Always important to keep things tidy in a ship, ones that are a mess have a tendency to be a danger during unanticipated events in flight. 

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Bruce says and pitches off the bulkhead, walks the gantry, and then glides down the metal steps with a lot more finesse than anyone would grant him. 

“No, I’m not.”

“You always do, Steve. You’re worried about the commission, if it’s the right thing. You think the Courtesan Trade is akin to slavery, but it really isn’t.”

He doesn’t look up at Bruce when he says, “It was something we fought against, back then, back in the day. We tried to make it so people didn’t have to sell their bodies for food.”

“If it’s any consolation no one in the Courtesan Guild needs to do that,” Bruce says. “Now, go clean up, and get ready. And stay out of my engine room.”

Steve chuckles. “I thought you weren’t an engineer, just a scientist.”

“Well something like that, now go,” Bruce says and Steve salutes him before he climbs the ladder-steps to the gantry leading to the center of the ship. 

When he gets to his quarters which are near the bow of the ship, he strips and goes to the shower. It will be a quick one, though they are not underway he tries not to waste resources – and water is one of the precious ones. The Corps control a lot of things and water is one of them. He scrubs away the dirt and grease from a day spent at the heart of the ship – sometimes he needs to do that to just lose himself. Sometimes he needs to forget everything he left behind. He finishes and towels off, shaves with a straight razor, and then tidies up after himself. He digs through his small locker to pull out his uniform. Dark blue with his insignia – the star on his chest – he pulls on his under garments, his trousers, shirt, jackets and boots. After buckling on his belt, he tugs on his fingerless gloves and sighs. Best to get this over with. 

Walking over to the comm center in his quarters, he hits the screen and it comes to life. “Contact Director Fury, SHIELD.” It does a retinal scan and he imprints his middle finger on the base for life sign verification. In seconds Fury appears on the screen. The Howling Commando doesn’t use virtual projections – and Steve’s glad of it – they always give him headaches away. 

“Rogers? I thought you were on stand down with that last one. I’m still trying to convince the council not to wipe your ass out of existence.”

“Yes, sir. I thought it would be good news to hear that we have an independent commission,” Steve reports. He’s standing at parade rest, something he needs to stop doing. He’s not a soldier, not really, not anymore.

“What’s the cargo?”

“No cargo, sir. Transport only.” He wants to avoid as many of the details as possible. 

“Transport? Slavers? Are you transporting humans, I thought I made myself clear on that one. We don’t do that in SHIELD. Leave that to Hammer Corps.”

“No, sir. We’re transporting a Courtesan for final destination to the Inner Belts. Large fee, too. We’ll be able to split off a nice percentage for SHIELD.” He transmits the specifics, leaving out the name and destination.

Fury frowns as the data streams to his implant. His one eye has been replaced by a synthetic and is a direct interface with SHIELD’s servers. None of Steve’s crew or Steve has such enhancements. They are only for the wealthy or the politically connected. Steve’s not sure which Fury would qualify.

“Who is it?”

“Discretion is the better part of valor, sir,” Steve says and smiles. He tries not to show insubordination, though he doubts Fury would register it. Others at SHIELD might, particularly Hill, but not Fury.

“Discretion?” Fury considers this with a grimace, but nods. “How long?”

“Better part of three months.”

“That takes you out of the roster for a while,” Fury says and cocks the one eyebrow over his real eye. “Might not go over well with the Council, Captain.”

“Have them take a look at their cut; I think they’ll be happy enough with it.”

Fury tilts his head in agreement. “Probably, I’ll see what I can do. But you see to it, I am not standing there with my fingers up my ass because you fucked up, Rogers.”

“Understood, sir.” Steve says and signs out. He does not want to linger, Fury has always been friendly, and he can sympathize with the man most of the time. He has a difficult job balancing the needs of his people against the Council of Corps. It can’t be easy trying to get those pricks to understand how the real world works especially since they spend most of their time cooped up in the virtual world. Fury can be listed as an ally but Steve hates to put people in difficult positions. If Fury knows too much, it could lead to some questions and issues Steve doesn’t want to deal with at this time.

“Right old girl?” he says and taps the side of the hull. 

“Still talking to the ship like she’s your lover?” Bucky asks as he invites himself into Steve’s quarters. 

“She has a delicate disposition.”

“She’s a ship, you need to get laid,” Bucky says and crunches on the apple he’s holding. 

“Don’t be crass, Buck,” Steve says and finishes tidying his room.

“This’ll be the big one, you know. You thought about what you want to do once we get out of the contract with SHIELD?”

Steve shakes his head. He never really considered a life freed of his contract. He had forced himself not to think about the possibilities. Steve tries to be pragmatic about his focus on life. He dislikes the thought of wasting his energy on thoughts and dreams which cannot be. 

“I have, I have,” Bucky says and chomps on the apple again. He winks at Steve.

“What’ll Natasha let you do, Bucky?” Steve grins.

“What will she want me to do? Think of it the whole damned shebang at our disposal. All this time, she’s been waiting on me. She’s been good, you know, Steve?” Bucky looks at the apple, frowns, and then tosses the rest of it in the garbage shoot. “She doesn’t even have a debt to pay out and she’s been stuck here all this time because of me. I don’t want that. I want-.” He stops as he looks at the mechanical arm. 

“Yeah, Bucky, I want it too,” Steve says, even though he’s not exactly sure he wants the same thing that his friend wishes for. Steve’s not even sure he has any dreams. 

Bucky brightens and slaps Steve’s arm. “Then it’s about time we get started. Stark will be here any minute now.”

Steve nods and follows Bucky out of his quarters, ducking to avoid the frame of the door. He pulls the oval door closed but doesn’t lock it. He trusts his crew, they are his only family. He worries about what will happen to everyone if they do disband. Bruce and Clint will be lost, especially Bruce.

He sighs and Bucky glances back at him with a quizzical look on his face. Steve only shrugs and says, “Maybe you’re right.”

“About?”

“Maybe I do need to get laid,” Steve mutters and takes the ladder to the main hold. Once there, he notes his crew has all assembled, with the exception of Bruce, and are awaiting the arrival of the somewhat famous Courtesan Tony Stark. 

Steve doesn’t pretend to read the Rag-net, but he knows his crew finds some entertainment on those waves so he doesn’t say anything. Stark is always in the news. His daddy’s company had been one of the big three Corps, but since Howard died when Stark was still young, the whole thing came under the jurisdiction of Howard’s partner in crime – Obadiah Stane. From Steve’s rudimentary understanding of current events, Stane lacked the luster and finesse of Howard, and drove Stark Corp from the big three to the bottom three. Howard’s son could have saved it. He’d been in engineering school, but half way through he dropped out and joined up with the Courtesans for training. It had been sensationalized all over the Rag-nets. 

Of course, many theorized that Stark lost it, had a mental breakdown after the events of Ten Rings. A group of the most notorious Ring runners kidnapped Stark and tried to get him to engineer weapons for them. He didn’t, but somehow escaped. No one knows how, and his disposition and general attitude had changed so much so that he turned to the Courtesans for refuge – many thought. Steve doesn’t know, it was all before his time – or more correctly during his time in stasis. 

Now, Tony Stark is one of the most sought after Courtesans in the Guild. The fact that Stark Corp holds Tony’s license and is willing to contract him out to the Feds for more than a year will blow apart the news rags again. Steve hopes he can deliver Stark where he needs to go without any of the crew or the ship being in the limelight. He likes to keep a low profile. In fact, he needs to keep a low profile.

The top Corps will not be happy if he ends up in the news.

Bucky throws a hand on his shoulder and whispers as they enter the holding bay, “Just don’t go all horn dog on us for him, ‘kay?”

Steve bats him away and grimaces. Why is everything about sex with Bucky? He shakes his head as his friend chuckles but takes up his place near Natasha and Clint. He needs to discuss the last commission with Clint. It went sour and Clint’s still blaming himself over it. He shouldn’t and SHIELD shouldn’t either, but they added a percentage to his debt and to Steve’s debt. It’s the way it works, that’s the system. Steve doesn’t hold any grudges, especially since Clint had been trying to help a few orphaned kids.

A shift of light at the end of the ramp alerts him to someone approaching the ship. They’ve been at the Way Station for two weeks and should be departing soon or else they’ll have to pay for another two week berth. He hears the clomp of feet up the plank and everyone around him stiffens as the head of one of the Corps enters the Howling Commando.

“Captain Rogers?” An older gentleman in a gray silver striped suit and a thick beard but balding head approaches Steve.

“Sir,” Steve says and offers a polite and politically correct bow. 

“It is good to see you, Captain Rogers. You are a symbol of freedom and a legend to the people.”

“It’s nice of you to remember, sir. But I’m just a kid from the Rims.”

Stane slaps him, much like Bucky did as if they are old buddies. “Sure you are, sure you are. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a famous guy. And the fact that you’re working off your debt like a loyal and good citizen does wonders for the system and the order.”

Steve feels his face heat and he hates it, but he swallows down his retort, because he has to, because it’s the right thing to do for his crew, the only family he has left. 

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir. Would you like to examine the quarters or the ship?” Steve steers the conversation away from his civic duty and to the business at hand.

“Oh, I think Tony will do that.” Stane turns around and calls down the ramp. “Tony, what’s taking so long?” He shakes his head and peers back at Steve with a wink. “Courtesans, you know how they are.” 

Something curdles in Steve’s stomach. He really hates this commission. When he thinks this his eyes drift to the ramp way and he hears the sound of several people climbing up it. The first to appear is a lithe woman in a white suit with a strawberry blonde ponytail. She’s efficient and business looking but also very beautiful. Bucky whispers and Natasha hits him. The next to appear is a larger man with a rounder stocker build than Steve wouldn’t have pinned for a Courtesan, and he’s corrected when a third person appears.

Steve chokes back his gasp and covers it with a cough. The Rag-nets don’t do him justice. He’s a beautiful man with light olive skin and a mass of thick dark waves. He has an odd cut to his beard and mustache, but it only serves to emphasize his devil may care smile. But his eyes are intense in their aspect yet wild and Steve avoids them, because it looks like they might cut deeply into him. Stark is shorter than Steve imagined, but Steve thinks this probably serves him well as a Courtesan. Yet, he’s also built, though Steve cannot confirm it. He’s wearing a tailored suit that probably woven from the most expensive silk on the market. The white glimmers in the receded lighting of the bay. His shirt has a mock turtle neck and is a nice mauve color. He must have something beneath his clothes on his chest because Steve detects the smallest glow of light beneath his shirt.

“Sir,” Steve says and steps up to Stark; it’s easy to do – just his charisma draws Steve forward.

The stocky guy moves in the way. “I don’t think so.”

Steve turns back to Stane and the man is obviously exasperated. “Happy, this is Captain Rogers. You know the one Tony insisted on.”

This perks up everyone’s attention and he can see Clint and Bucky straining to hear what’s going on. He scowls at them. His team isn’t standing in a receiving line, but hanging about and acting like they own the place. 

Stark, standing behind the guy whose name is Happy, pushes him aside and smiles at Steve. “Nice to meet you, Cap.”

“Captain, and it’s good to meet you, Mister Stark.”

“That’s Sir Stark,” Stane corrects. “Although Tony decided to take on the Courtesan trade he’s still part of the Elite Class.”

“Oh, sorry, Sir Stark,” Steve says and again and feels the warmth on his cheeks again. 

Stark shakes his head and says, “Leave the poor guy alone, Obie. His head’s still thawing from the ice. Right?”

This is supposed to make Steve feel better, mend fences, but he just wants to throttle the man. 

“Let me introduce my bodyguard and assistant.” Stark points to the rotund guy in the dark suit and then to the slim woman. “Happy Hogan and Pepper Potts.”

“Nice to meet you Sir Hogan and Lady Potts.”

This sets off a round of giggles from Stark that certifiably drives Steve nuts. “No, no, no. Just Mister and Ms for them.” He regards Steve and says, “You’re adorable, aren’t you?”

Steve bites back his response and, thankfully, Natasha steps up to do the introductions. “You already know our Captain. I’m the pilot Natasha Romanov, this is Clint Barton the first navigator and gunner.” She points to Bucky. “Bucky Barnes - our sniper. Bruce Banner is the engineer, medical officer and all around cook but he’s down at the engine, getting things ready for launch.”

“Sniper and gunner, you must run into a lot of trouble.”

“Run the Rims and the Rings, you do.” Steve shrugs but he detects a slight increase in tension from Stark when he mentions the Ring runners. 

Stark casts it off quickly and moves to ask, “Engineer, might be able to give you a-.”

“Now, Tony, you know you’re not here for that. Your little hobby is all that, just a hobby now. You’re going to the Inner Belts for quite a contract.”

Stark rolls his eyes. “Yes, Obie, I understand. You don’t have to keep telling me about him.” Stark actually shudders. “Can’t wait ‘til the year’s over.”

Steve shares a look of doubt with Natasha, but then turns back to Stark. “Will your bodyguard and assistant be accompanying you?”

Stane interrupts before Stark can answer. “Tones since you got this one, I’m off. Too many meetings. Take care of yourself, okay? I’m not going to live forever and Ty, well, he just might like to see you again in an unprofessional capacity.” 

He gives Stark a half hug and waves to the crew, before pulling Steve aside. “I want you to make sure Sir Stark is well protected on this trip. Nothing is to happen to him. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I run a tight ship.”

“See to it that you do. I want the goods delivered in one piece. If you do that, I will add ten percentage points to your fee.”

It rankles Steve and he should just leave it, but he was never the best soldier. As Stane starts to leave, Steve catches him and says, “Since when is Sir Stark goods, he’s a Courtesan and, from my understanding, a well-respected member of the Guild.”

Stane smiles, and it feels seedy and Steve suddenly wants another shower. “Yes, a trained whore. He’s a very well trained whore. Be sure you take care and don’t let him get his claws in you, Captain, you won’t be very happy if you do. Good day.”

Without looking back, Stane departs and Steve only wants to have Bucky put a bullet through his brain. He knew Stane wasn’t in the running for philanthropist of the year, but he never realized he might be trying out for a leading role in Hell. 

Bucky comes over to Steve and opens his mouth to question him, but Steve only shakes in his head in warning. “Come on, let’s get them situated.”

As he approaches the crew and guests he hears Stark asking about the accommodations. Natasha is speaking, “Unfortunately, sir, we only have the one guest quarters. We normally don’t fly as a transport, just ship cargo-.”

“Well, some think of me as cargo-.”

“Tony,” Ms Potts says and her smile reminds Steve of his long lost Peggy. She’s sweet and soft but also strong and, underneath it all, powerful. “If you have crew quarters, Happy and I would be fine with bunking there.”

“No, that won’t d-.”

Natasha jumps in to say, “Bucky can bunk in with the crew, you can stay with me.”

“Hey now,” Bucky says. Natasha blows him a kiss and winks at him. He huffs and mutters under his breath but doesn’t protest anymore. 

“Mister Hogan, you can take my quarters,” Steve says.

“Nope, won’t be necessary,” Stark says. “He’ll bunk with me.”

“Oh,” Steve says and he’s not sure how to interpret that information.

“Happy always bunks close as my bodyguard,” Stark adds and Steve wonders how much is written all over his face. “Do you have enough room in cargo to store what I’ll be bringing?”

“I’m not sure; we have a pretty heavy load. What are you carting along?” Steve says and folds his arms across his chest. He feels defensive, so he drops his arms, yet still feels all at ends.

“We have a shipping container,” Ms Potts answers.

“That’s pretty big,” Steve says.

“Lots of suits,” Clint says and snickers.

“You’re not wrong,” Stark says with a wink. “Is there enough room? I can’t go without them.”

“Can we remove them from the container, we might be able to fit them if we can-.”

“No.”

“No?” Steve says and has a serious issue with this guy. 

“No, I don’t want my stuff just tossed around. It has to be in the shipping container.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says and he only agrees because this means so much to his crew and there’s a lot riding on this commission. “We’ll work on it. I can always use my quarters for storage and bunk in the racks.”

This settles Stark to a degree; though Steve cannot place his agitation over a couple of trunks of clothes and personal effects. He keeps his thoughts to himself though, because he still thinks of Courtesanship as a form of bondage and he despises the thought of people contracting their bodies out for food and the necessities. It occurs to him that Stark isn’t doing that, not at all. He frowns, now he likes it even less.

Wiping his mind of it, Steve tells himself to buck up. He’ll need to deal with it if he’s going to transport Stark and his entourage for a three month tour into the Inner Belts. 

“I can show you to your quarters,” Steve says and gestures to the gantry. “If you can tell me where the shipping container is I’ll have Clint and Bucky on it-.”

“Happy can go with them,” Stark says and Happy nods. 

“Are you sure, he’s your bodyguard,” Steve says drily. 

“A little snarky yourself, aren’t you?” Stark shrugs. “I think I’m safe.”

Happy, Clint, and Bucky leave as Natasha ushers Ms. Potts to her quarters. With Bruce still missing in action, it leaves only Steve and Stark in the hold. 

“This way, Sir Stark,” Steve says and climbs up the ladder. 

“Tony.”

“What?” Steve peers over his shoulder down at the man.

“Call me Tony, everybody does. I don’t stand on ceremony except for when I’m around that ass, Stane.”

“Oh,” Steve says and he’s not sure how to process everything that’s happened in the last thirty minutes. 

As they move up the ladder to the passageway, Steve decides the best thing to do is to just keep it light. He’s not sure about Stark – or Tony – he can’t tell what’s going on. Usually Steve’s a good judge of character, but Tony (and it is that easy to call him Tony) hides a lot. Steve can tell his surface, though, has cracks.

“We have two passageways on the port side – one leads to the galley area while the one closer to the cockpit or bow of the ship and leads to the quarters. Starboard down, you’ll find the engine room and medical. Don’t go down there, Bruce doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

“Bruce?”

“Our engineer, he’s gotta temper on him.” Steve gestures for Tony to follow and he does after lingering near the ladder to engineering. “This’ll be your quarters up this way.” 

They only have one guest quarters and it’s not used routinely. He keeps it mainly for any stowaways or fugitives he needs to move. SHIELD doesn’t need to know that, and most of the time he thinks he keeps it pretty secret. Bucky and Natasha know how to keep the place free of bugs and other surveillance devices without making it _look_ like they did. He hasn’t a clue how they do it. Probably something electrical.

He opens the small port door with a twist of the large lever knob and then swings it open.

Tony looks at it and, with a twinkle in his eyes, says, “How quaint.” He steps over the metal frame and into the small space. 

Steve follows him into the room. It is serviceable but not luxurious. If Stark wanted luxury he came to the wrong place. “Sorry, nothing fancy here.”

“Not looking for fancy, Cap, just safe.”

Steve stops and meets Tony’s gaze, and, for a second, he glimpses the bare truth of the matter. Tony’s frightened, terrified of something, yet at the same time there’s a layer of defiance over the fear. He’s not going down without a fight – Steve knows a little something about that mindset.

He inhales as Tony looks away. Blinking, Steve comes back to himself and explains some of the quarters’ amenities which are not much. “The head’s that way – oh the bathroom for you non-military folk. The bunk pulls down from the wall to give you more space during the journey. Steve unlatches it, and yanks it down. It is a little larger than a single person cot. Tony touches the mattress and nods in approval. One thing Steve made sure of was that the Howling Commando was fitted with decent mattresses. Suffering from horrible sleep each night in the military taught him to take care of his people. 

“Not bad.”

“Nanite foam.”

“Nice, I approve,” Tony says. “That’s a surprise I figured I’d be shacking up with bedbugs.”

“I didn’t promise anything about that,” Steve replies and Tony stops. When Steve smiles at him, Tony guffaws.

“Son of a bitch, you are snarky, aren’t you?” 

Steve has a hard time suppressing a grin, but he remains on track and points to the small desk and computer port. “Your interface, if you don’t have an implant.”

“I don’t.”

Considering him, Steve says, “That’s different.”

“My mother didn’t approve of enhancements.” 

Steve doesn’t mention the strange glowing at the center of Tony’s chest. If he wants to pretend he doesn’t have bio-engineered enhancements, Steve’s fine with that. He’s a product of Project Rebirth and everyone knows it. Steve’s not embarrassed by it, but he also knows how it is to be the scrawny kid fighting his way through life on the Rims. He learned in many cases to live and let live. 

“You need an upgrade, though,” Tony says and checks the console. “This has got to be ancient.”

“Something like that,” Steve says. “We don’t generally upgrade unless it is absolutely necessary. You’ll find a lot of what’s on the H.C. to be at least a bit out of date. I find it kind of comforting.”

“You would, old man,” Tony says but it isn’t malicious. Steve can see he’s trying for friendly, maybe a little too hard, but he is trying.

Steve rotates his shoulders a bit since it makes him feel confined, boxed in. Changing the subject, he says. “I don’t see how your bodyguard will be comfortable. If you want you could take my quarters. It’s bigger and would fit more than one person comfortably. I can find somewhere else to store the cargo.”

“That’s sweet, that’s nice,” Tony says and purses his lips at him. Steve half expects him to purr or growl at him, too. “But Happy will stay awake when I’m sleeping and stand guard outside my door. When I’m up and about, he’ll take his sleep cycle.”

“Oh, okay.” With nothing left to say, Steve excuses himself. “Well, I have to get moving if we’re to get underway. We have a launch window from the Station at twenty three hundred if you want to watch. The galley has a decent view.”

“Thanks, I think I’ll go to the holding bay and see if Happy needs any help with the cargo.”

“Sure, sure,” Steve starts to leave, but Tony stops him.

“I don’t expect much, Captain. I just want the ride.”

Steve only nods and leaves. He knows what Tony wants is exactly the opposite; he just can’t figure it out. It irritates him, needles him. Tony picked his ship and his crew and him for a reason. He doesn’t like mysteries, especially ones that put his crew in danger. 

There is one thing that is certain. Tony Stark is dangerous.


	3. Chapter 3

After the loading of the shipping container, Steve checks through the normal flight routine. He calls on Bruce to verify the engines are aligned and all safety protocols are engaged. Bruce doesn’t chew him out, but gives him that Zen look that both tells Steve to relax and to back off at the same time. He thinks Bruce might stare in the mirror to perfect that look. In the cockpit, Natasha does her final flight check as Clint completes the navigational calculations. Steve will review them; it isn’t like Clint doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s still in training and one small error could put them through an asteroid or in the center of the singularity that the Inner Belts revolve around. 

The cockpit only has the two seats for the pilot and navigator. Steve usually just hangs in the back and holds the Hell on when the ship gets flung from the Station. He confirms that their flight time is correct, though there seems to be a fifteen minute delay. That’s not unexpected; there are always delays at large Way Stations. He configures the release mechanism at Natasha’s word. 

Clint begins the countdown. “Thirty ‘til launch.”

Steve pulls the comm link free and stuffs the tiny bud into his ear. He taps it. “Crew and passengers, please secure the ship and fasten tight. We’ve entered launch schedule.”

He presses the timer and it rings through the ship. He won’t have to announce anything again, if he doesn’t want to – this part is automated, but he likes to make his presence known, not because of the power rush, but because he knows people appreciate the fact that there are living breathing organic beings in control. At least, some people do.

He flicks over to the Engine Room as Natasha finishes her flight check. “Bruce, how are the engines?”

“Nominal, ready to go. We still have that glitch in the computer works that I can’t figure out. It might pour out a bit of radiation and heat, but I’m venting it once we get off the station. We should be okay then.”

“Is it serious?” Steve asks and Clint looks up at him. They cannot afford not to launch. Given the lucrative paycheck of this commission they really have to perfect everything, have everything go according to plan.

“No, and I can fix in route.”

“Okay, then I’ll give it a go,” Steve says and nods to Natasha who’s peering over her shoulder at him. “Let’s go.”

She nods and dials through her last checks. “Let’s make this a good one.”

“Are we going to the Realms, first?” Steve grabs hold of the beam above his head to hang onto as Clint hands him the pad. 

“Figured it might be a good stop, we can drop off the foodstuffs we promised Thor, and then shoot through to the Rims.”

“Good path,” Steve says and scrolls through the most complicated sections of the calculations. Clint has an excellent eye for figuring out the best paths to take without wasting fuel or supplies. “We should probably be prepared for some fire. The Realms aren’t exactly in a good place these days.”

“Not since Odin-.”

“Yeah,” Steve says and frowns. “The whole place is in disarray.”

“Not sure they’ll have anything worth the barter, you sure you want to waste time there?” Natasha asks.

“I promised we’d deliver the food for the kids, so yeah, yeah I do.” Steve says and he knows Natasha won’t fight about it. His little ragtag crew is a bunch of rejects. He hands the pad back to Clint. “Looks good. Let’s get moving.”

“Word from Station Control, launch in t minus ten seconds, Cap, hold on.”

As Steve reaches up for his handhold, he hears a shuffle behind him and then – “Hey, is this where the good seats are?”

“What?” Steve turns to find Tony stand in the corridor right outside of the cockpit. “Get strapped in.”

“Five, four, three,” Natasha counts down. “We have locking release, one. Launch.”

As the clamps released, the ship flings like a rock from a slingshot out of the Way Station, The gravitational compression of the launch throws Tony, but Steve catches him and clutches the man to his chest so that he doesn’t become a projectile. The danger isn’t over after the ship is freed from the Station, as the ship accelerates and the gravity from the Station decreases, there’s a transitional zone where gravity exists only as a function of the forward momentum. Then, it disappears and, for several minutes the ship moves through space without its artificial gravity. Steve has to twist his body around and push Tony up against the bulkhead of the ship as Steve clings to the ship with one hand. 

As the ship shifts through the ever changing gravitational forces, Steve clenches his teeth and shoves Tony hard against the wall of the ship. Once Natasha evens out the flight, she engages the hyper drive and within seconds they’re slammed against the wall again. Steve is pushed close to Tony, feeling his hot breath against the hairs of his throat. It prickles and he hisses in return. This is not what he needs today – or any day.

He faces Tony so he can’t watch Natasha and Clint as they bring the ship toward stability in the hyper drive. It always takes a few minutes, the Howling Commando can be a harsh mistress when she wants to be, and the transition to hyper dimensionality and normal space causes her to growl in response to her handlers. But Natasha has it down and Steve can trust her as Clint guides them through the calculations. 

“Process one, complete,” Clint recites. “Dropping low and into system orbit.”

They are only in hyper dimensions for a sum total of five minutes, but it is enough to move them across the star systems. The majority of their journey will be flying toward each planet or Way Station along the way. Jumping in too close to a star system warps the calculations and could lead to instant death. Jumps are to set points on the outskirts of the star systems. The actual hyper jumps are fast, efficient, if not hell raising and terrifying. It rips away at his sanity every time they do it. There’s something just not right about it.

The ship decelerates and the artificial gravity kicks in about three minutes into the decrease of speed. He feels the weight on his chest and knows he can let go of Stark. It takes him a full thirty seconds before he does so. He eases up and Tony straightens his shirt which is a simple one – not the beautiful silk one he was wearing earlier – just a tunic with embroidered edging and soft fabric. The fleeting thought of cotton, a rare material these days, teases at him. He steps away from Tony.

“Well, Cap, I didn’t know you cared.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Steve says. “I know you’ve traveled before, you’ve had to. You could have gotten us all killed with that little stunt. You do not walk around the ship when we’re launching or jumping.”

Tony raises his hands in surrender. “Look, I don-.”

“You didn’t think, this is a cargo hauler, not a luxury liner. We don’t have dampeners and stabilizers. We can’t do the transitions easily. Now, you follow the rules or I’ll dump your ass-.”

“Listen, Capsicle, I’ll admit I haven’t ridden in a bucket like this since my rescue from the Ten Rings. And maybe that memory is a little fogged out with drugs and pain, so I apologize. I didn’t know. If you want to be a dick about it, fine, but I was going to apologize and then tell you thank you for saving my ass,” Tony says and as Steve opens his mouth to reply he adds, “Save it, sweetheart.”

He turns on his heel and leaves. Steve turns around and glances at Natasha and Clint. Clint only rolls his eyes and mutters, “Mister Fancy Pants.” Which Steve has no idea how he’s supposed to take that. A lot of what Clint says is a mystery to Steve.

Looking over at Natasha, Steve opens his mouth as if to ask what he did wrong and she only shakes her head. “Don’t ask me, Cap. Seems like he’s a case for a classic narcissist, don’t think he plays well with others. Not sure how he even managed to pass the rigors of the Courtesan Guild, but rumor has it; he’s one of the best.”

Steve frowns.

“Careful, Cap, your furrow is showing,” Clint says and points to Steve’s forehead. Steve sighs; everyone thinks they’re a hoot on his ship.

“Thanks, thanks for that. I’m gonna-.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Clint says and turns back to the flight. Clint and Natasha will take turns at the cockpit with Steve managing most of the sleep cycle for them. He doesn’t need as much rest due to the serum, so he often scoots them off to bed, so he can just sit and stare out into the star systems and gaze at infinity.

“Be back in an hour,” he says and leaves. They’ll be ready for him to take over then. He wanders the ship, wonders if he should check up on Bucky or Bruce. He discards that thought and moves to the galley, a nice cup of coffee would be appreciated.

Walking into the cramped passage, he straightens as he enters the wide space of the kitchen and dining area. It is the largest space outside of the hold in the entire ship. They often spend hours together in this space, it is his favorite part of the ship, it reminds him of family. He goes to the coffee machine and activates it. It pours out the liquid like it’s gold and he smiles.

“Good coffee, Captain Rogers?”

He turns to find the pretty woman that came on board as Stark’s assistant standing at the entrance to the galley. She changed out of the suit and is wearing hip hugging jeans and a t-shirt, probably both made of cotton like Tony has. 

“Would you like some, Ms. Potts?”

“Just Pepper,” she replies.

“Huh?”

Giggling, she says, “My name. Pepper, actually it is Virginia, but everyone calls me Pepper.”

“Oh,” Steve says and takes out a mug for her. “Steve.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Steve.” She crosses the space between them and offers her hand. He takes it; it is slim and slight but holds hidden strength. 

“Nice to meet you, too.” He points to the fridge. “Cream’s in there but it’s artificial. We can’t afford the nice stuff on this boat. Sorry about that, you’re probably used to better.”

She opens the door to the refrigerator, retrieves the cream, pours it, and returns the small carton. She tastes the coffee and smiles. “Not bad.”

“You’re too kind,” Steve says and offers her a chair at their main table.

“Thanks.” She settles in and sips the coffee while Steve rummages around for cookies or a snack. He’s always hungry, but he never tells his crew. He finds a package and sets it on the table. She smiles again. 

“What do you do for Mister- Sir Stark?” Steve says and slides the chair to sit down as well. The chairs are latched to the floor to ensure they don’t fly around the compartment either.

“Just Tony, he hates it when people use the title.” 

“And that’s a little forward of me, asking you that, isn’t it?” Steve says. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer.”

“It is a little forward, but I’ll answer. I’m his personal assistant. I do just about anything he needs outside of the guard duty. We leave that to Happy. I keep his calendar; make sure his shoes are shined, clean up any problems in the Rag-nets.”

“Sounds like a hassle.”

“It can be, but Tony is worth it.” 

“You seem very devoted to your boss,” Steve says.

She lifts a shoulder and her hair, still in the ponytail, swings. “Tony isn’t a routine boss. He’s not what people think.”

“What do people think?” Steve knows he’s not being subtle about his inquiries but he has to know what game they are playing. Plying Pepper for the answers only feeds into what they want, allowing them to tell their story the way they want to, and therefore Steve can pick it apart.

“You’d be surprised.” Pepper eyes him, studying him as if she can dissect him with a simple glance. “Everyone thinks they know Tony, they think after his parents died and the Ten Rings kidnapped him, they think he’s had some kind of mental breakdown. They couldn’t be further from the right of it.”

“What’s the right of it?” Steve’s surprised at how intrigued he is in the story. This whole commission just landed in his lap today, he shouldn’t venture where he has no footing.

“Tony’s a dreamer, a futurist. Not many people understand what that means to a man of Tony’s intellect. It constantly amazes me how many people under estimate what he’s capable of. I know what people say.”

“What do they say?”

“He’s a paid whore, that he sold himself because he couldn’t deal with what happened to him. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Tony’s a good man, it’s sad most people only see the window dressing,” Pepper says and takes final drink of her mug. “Thank you, Captain. I have some work to do before I go to sleep. Have a good night.”

He nods and watches her leave. When he gets Bucky alone, he’s going to beat him because this whole commission is not what he needs right now. With their last assignment gone to hell, he needs this to go through nice and without any issues, it’s the only way to get out of their contract and get SHIELD and the Feds off his back.

Standing, he gathers up the mugs, and places them in the decontamination washer. The thing is full again and Steve is going to have to get after whomever chore it was to do the damned dishes. Sometimes it is like being a den mother to a bunch of brats. He sets it to cycle and finishes clearing up.

After, he checks on the Engine Room but Bruce is bedded down and he decides it best not to bother him. Bruce needs his beauty sleep; the man is a monster without it. He slips from the Engine Room to the main cargo hold. They are on the same level of the ship. He walks in and whistles. 

“Yeah, I thought so, too.” 

He looks up to find Bucky with Clint standing on the walkway above his head. “What?”

“That, that is an awful lot of suits for one man.”

Before him, Steve gapes at the massive shipping container. It fills the entire cargo hold with only a small space for weaving to the ramp and exit of the ship. 

“What’s a guy gonna do with that many suits?” Clint asks and his voice echoes a bit into the rafters of the ship. 

“Maybe he has some of those sex toys in there, like the kinky stuff,” Bucky says.

Steve sighs. “What? You think he brought his own kink room with him?”

“Wow, I did not know it was possible for Captain Rogers of the Honor Guard to actually say the word kink,” Bucky replies. 

“Shut up, you jerk.”

“Asshole,” Bucky says.

“You two are worse than a married couple, you know that right?” Clint adds. He’s standing with his arms crossed glaring at the shipping crate. 

“I thought you were still on duty in the cockpit?”

“Natasha said she’d take the helm, I’m going to bed,” Clint says. “See you in the racks, Cap, you think this is bad, you should see your quarters.” He disappears down the walkway toward the passageway to the quarters. 

Steve touches the side of the shipping container, like it might give him a clue. Bucky scoffs and says, “He’s a character, I wonder if all the Courtesans have so much stuff they lug around?”

Shaking his head, he glances up at his friend and says, “Guess we’ll never know.” Courtesans were only for the Elite class; no one on the ship qualified or ever would. 

“Nope, guess not,” Bucky says. “See you in the racks, Steve?”

“Nah, I’ll sleep at the helm, gotta go relieve Natasha anyway.”

“Night, Steve, don’t stay up too late.”

“Always looking after me,” Steve says.

“If I don’t, who will?”

Steve smiles and Bucky leaves. He stands in the shadow of the container and cannot fathom what a Courtesan would need with so many suits. As he considers it, the alarm on his comm link goes off to indicate it’s rotation time. He needs to get up to the cockpit. Scrabbling up the ladder, he makes his way through to the galley, fills up a thermos with coffee and then heads to the bow of the ship.

Natasha is already setting the instruments to auto-pilot as he approaches. She smiles at him, but whispers a good night as he settles into her chair. She leaves without more and he gazes out into the stars and the systems of the Realms. 

The Howling Commando isn’t a new ship and cannot make long jumps through hyper dimensions or space time. It makes short leaps since the computer is ancient and the engine barely functions. Most of the time, Bruce is jerryrigging the thing to get it together with spit and wishes. Jumping directly into the dimensional space of a star system is dangerous. So, they jump to outside the system and slowly float their way in. Sometimes they have a good momentum to get them to their destination, other times they have to use engine power which depletes their reserves, and still other times if they come in close enough (which is a rare thing) they can use their solar sails. 

The Realms, well really Asgard, isn’t usually on their route. But since the fall and the disastrous war that left his friend Thor without so much as a family to help him rebuild, Steve tries to find a few times a year he can drop in and offer some relief. The Realms stand apart from the rest of the Corp and the humanity. They aren’t human and some people say they might be some kind of gods. Steve only cringes at that, they live, they die, simple and straightforward. They are not gods. The devastation of Asgard showed that to Steve. From Steve understanding, the Frost Giants with their allies the Dark Elves, came to seek their revenge for the abduction of one of their own by Odin, Thor’s father. It ended up a mess and their long lost son, Loki – became a political pawn. The fact that Thor still hides his brother to this day causes Steve some unease. He wonders at Thor’s motives. 

He clears his thoughts, he can think about it another time. Right now, he needs to rest and just let the stress of the day ease away.

As he leans back in the chair with his hand cradling the thermos of coffee a shuffling from the passageway draws his attention. Looking back into the dark recesses of the ship, he glimpses a shadowed figure with a small light source of his own.

“You might as well come out, I can see you,” Steve says and Tony appears in the arc of light issuing from the console in front of Steve.

“Is it always so dark in here?”

“We work in space, so, yes the answer to that is yes.”

Tony presses his lips together and points to the side of the hull as if referencing something. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about before.”

“Before?”

“Not strapping in.”

“Oh, oh, yeah, thanks,” Steve says and stares down at his thermos mug. Why does the man put him at such odds with himself? He’s only known the man for a few hours and, for some reason, he rankles every time he sees Tony.

“Maybe it was just my way of getting those big strong muscles around me.”

Steve glances up and sees the smug look on Tony’s face. Obviously, Steve’s played right into Tony’s hand as he grins with that devilish slant to it. “Don’t expect me to save you next time, next time I’ll throw you out the airlock.”

Tony wanders further into the cockpit, standing new the bow’s windows. The windows are an array of triangles toward a center circle. He doesn’t look back at Tony when he says, “No, no you won’t. A man like you won’t throw out the cash cow.”

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean or what kind of judgment of -.”

“Whoa there Captain,” Tony says and peers back at Steve. “No harm intended. I’m not stupid, you know, Captain. I know who you are and what they’ve done to you.”

Intrigued, Steve sits up and sets the thermos with mug on the side console where it would do the least damage if upset. “Oh and what do you know?”

“Steve Rogers? Captain Steve Rogers,” Tony says and hangs his head, laughs a little, and then looks back up at him. “Everyone, every child throughout the colonies knows the tales of Captain Rogers, also known as Captain America. America, wasn’t that the name of some long ago nation on Earth?”

Steve keeps mum.

“Named after an ideal, Captain America lived to save us all. Everyone knows the tales. You, my friend, are famous. Even have vids after you, there’s a whole colony out there that might actually worship you like some kind of weird god.” Tony isn’t looking at Steve anymore; instead he’s staring out into the vastness of space. “Even I used to listen to the tales, back in the day.” A wistful tone laces his voice.

“Back in the day?” Steve can’t help but ask. The man is a paradox.

“Yeah, my father – he was obsessed with your story. Learned every facet of it, was certain with that magical formula running through your veins you were still alive. Looked for you for years,” Tony says. He shakes his head. “Damned bastard. He would have loved to have found you, would have been so proud. I thought about looking for you at one point, thought maybe he’d be proud of me if I found you, but then-.”

When he doesn’t continue, Steve stands up, rounds the console and joins Tony at the window array. 

Tony sighs. “That was a long time ago, the bastard’s dead now. And look at me, I get to have my ass carted around the colonies like a prince in this bucket by the dear old Captain himself.”

Steve tries to keep it light by chuckling but it dies in his throat. “Seems you should be traveling in a bit more luxury than we can offer you, sir.”

“What’d I tell you about that?”

“Then tell me why you’re traveling on a cargo hauler.” Steve doesn’t expect the truth, but what he gets is something honest- though not the truth about why Tony is hanging with the wrong crowd.

“Had to get away from Obie.” He gazes out into the stars, looking at the star system as the approach the closest planet from the z-axis. “Don’t get me wrong, Captain, I like the luxury, I live for it. But Stane’s an asshole and getting away from him is one thing that outweighs luxury every time.”

“He’s been taking care of your Corp for a while; I would think you’d be a little more grateful.”

Tony scoffs low in his throat. “Maybe I should be, leaves me to play around, fuck around, you know like a good little Courtesan.” His words sound defensive, but Steve thinks they might be more pained.

“You don’t like your chosen profession?” 

“I like it just fine, just fine. Who wouldn’t? I travel around, get to meet all kinds of new people, have sex for fun. It’s grand, what do you think?” Tony stops and studies him. “Oh right, you’re Captain America, you virtuous and moral and all that other crap.”

Steve bites back his reply, Stark is his client and he’s paying so much more than what the Howling Commando is worth. Instead, he tries for a different tactic. “I just want to make sure that you get what you want, Sir Stark.”

“Don’t play the class game with me, Cap. I’m not interested. You can’t impress me that way. Most of the people in my class are Elitist pigs who spend most of their time in the vids or virtual, or plan drugged on Rings to the gills. I learned a long time ago that my class does not define me.”

“That sounds like you’re a revolutionary,” Steve says and knows he’s made a mistake.

“Watch it Captain, the walls have ears.”

“Not on this ship,” Steve replies.

“Are you so sure?” Tony asks. “You run a tightknit group here, being on this boat only for a few hours I can tell that. But the question always remains, can you trust everyone?”

“Everyone in my crew is trustworthy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Tony smiles but it is softer, not sharp and edged like his previous one. “I know, Captain, I know. Why do you think I picked this ship in the first place?” He slaps Steve on the shoulder and steps away, toward the exit, but before he departs he says, “I wonder, Captain.”

“Wonder?”

“I wonder if you really know what the world today is all about, who is who and who plays the game.”

“I know enough.”

“Good.” He turns and leaves. 

The cryptic statement unsettles Steve and he stands staring out at the deep space for what seems like hours before he returns to the chair at the console to do his late night checks. He spends the rest of the time looking up everything he can find on Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S


	4. Chapter 4

He doesn’t see much of Tony’s traveling companions. Pepper spends a lot of time hooked up to the comm feed in Tony’s quarters while Happy stations himself in the cargo hold, protecting Tony’s possessions. All of it seems odd since Tony is a Courtesan. Steve understands that Courtesans need bodyguards in this day and age, so the reasons for Happy are clear. He’s not sure about Pepper, she’s as much of an enigma as her boss. When he sees her looking at Tony, there’s a softness in her eyes. He thinks of asking her if they are in a relationship, some Courtesans do have relationships outside of their profession. He’s not sure he could handle that at all. 

He doesn’t ask; it’s none of his business. 

By the time they zero in for a landing on Asgard – or what’s left of it – a week of their journey has past and Steve finds out little more than what the Rag-nets can tell him about the flamboyant, but somewhat mysterious, Courtesan they’ve taken on board. He watches Tony from a distance; a long time ago he found out that staying a pace away from the object of his observation is a better idea than sidling up to him and making friends. 

Unfortunately, Stark has other plans. He gets in Steve’s face as often as not, though Steve tries hard to maintain a certain professional air. Every night he shadows Steve to the cockpit, hanging out, quizzing Steve about the technical specifications of the ship, the background of his crew, and even Steve’s mental state. One night before they guide the ship into the drop orbit and entry into the Asgardian atmosphere, Tony wanders into the cockpit, hangs there with his arm against the wall.

“You adjusting okay, Capsicle?”

“What?” Steve says as he checks the flight details. They will be landing on Asgard the next day.

“You know, things have changed while you were doing time as a Capsicle.” Tony shuffles over and stands over him near the console.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wishes Tony would go back to his quarters. “Don’t you sleep?”

“Sometimes, not all the times, not tonight.” As Tony reclines against the frame of the ship, it occurs to Steve how very comfortable Tony is in his skin. He uses his body like an instrument, to entice, to lure, to seduce. Steve wonders if Tony even knows what he projects – and then he realizes how naïve his thoughts are.

“Obviously,” Steve replies. He glances down at the console, not thinking of the line of Tony’s body, how very comfortable he is. Steve has always wished for that, before Project Rebirth his body always rebelled on him. After he’d always been trying to relearn his body. 

Tony’s word tug him out of his reverie. “Well, tell me Captain, you ever wish for the good ol’ days?”

He turns around then and looks at Tony. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“You’re pretty tense; maybe you need a little relaxation?”

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re wound up tighter than a virgin’s ass.”

“That is crude,” Steve says.

“You were in the army, you’ve heard worse.” Tony winks at him and purses his lips in a fake kiss. Tony leans against the console, being careful of the delicate controls. His hands folded in front of him, the strange circular light glowing in the darkened cockpit, he considers Steve. “Tell me, Captain, do you find what you fought for worth it?”

Steve opens his mouth, but clamps it shut again, and focuses his gaze on the lights of the console. The question digs deep like a miner’s drill breaking away at the rocky crust of a Debtor’s Moon. 

“Pretty marvelous humanity, isn’t it?” Tony says and, while he states it in a mocking way, there’s a sharpened edge to it like a blade. It feels like Tony’s handling him that knife, but by the business end.

Steve keeps his stare straight ahead; he’s not sure what game Tony’s playing at. He’s Elite Class, trying to catch a lower class slug like himself in an act of treasonous defiance isn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

He weighs his words. “I’ve seen some marvels, yes, Sir Stark.”

From Tony he only hears an exhausted sigh. He furrows his brow and turns his attention to the man, but it is Tony who isn’t looking this time. He gazes out into the sea of space. “Sir, Sir Stark. I guess that’s where we are.” He bows his head and chuckles under his breath. “Maybe someday, Captain, you’ll live up to all that talk, all the allure of the legend.” He looks at Steve, a sadness growing in his eyes. “I only wish people could see beyond the surface, Captain, don’t you?”

His lips part, but he can’t answer, the words catch in his throat and he feels the heat of shame on his face.

“Good night, Captain,” Tony says and steps out of the cockpit. Steve stares after him, wanting to call him back, wanting to know the man beneath the finery; the man with the oblique words, and the double edged swords of meaning.

Later, in the racks during the early morning hours, Steve tries to find rest and it ends up going into the negative zone for him. His dreams are filled with images and ugly memories. The ship he once piloted to his eventual ‘death’ swims through his dreams, yet it is filled with modern day horrors. The Elite class and their brains hooked up to the vids with wires and cables that looked more like tentacles than anything else. The first time he’d been interviewed by the Elite class the horror of their state, their lives gave him nightmares. 

Those images come back to him with a vengeance; he wakes up panting and covered in sweat. Crawling down from the stacked beds which take their names from coffin racks, he makes his way to his own quarters. The room is packed full with their other cargo. Since they are on final approach to Asgard, the crew members will be in soon to pull out the crates for Asgard. He disrobes and steps into the shower, soaping and rinsing as quickly as possible. 

Toweling off, he dresses with efficiency. As he’s drying his hair, Clint and Bucky enter the quarters. 

“Hey Cap, sorry,” Clint says. “Getting the cargo ready to unload.”

“I’m done just finishing up.”

“Getting all fancy for Stark,” Bucky says with a croon in his tone. 

Steve tosses the towel in the bin and groans at Bucky. “You are an ace class jerk.”

“Ace class?” He bobs his head a bit and slaps Clint on the back. “You hear that Hawk, I am moving up in the world, at the top of my game, ace class jerk.”

Clint only grunts at Bucky as he tags the crates that will be unloaded on Asgard. “You check out the latest intel, Cap, we could be coming in on some heat with this.”

“I heard,” Steve says and fingers his hair into place, he should comb it but, looking at the time, he skips it. “Hawk, let’s get to the helm we can leave the tagging to the jerk in the room.”

Clint smirks and winks at Bucky. He tosses the tag comp-pen to Bucky. “See, be nice to the boss, and he won’t stick you with the crappy jobs.”

Steve shoulders his way around the boxes in his cabin and says, “You still have kitchen duty, Clint, don’t forget that.”

“Son of a bitch,” Clint mutters as he follows Steve to the cockpit.

They find Natasha settled into her chair, comm link in place, and hitting the controls like they did her wrong.

“What’s up?”

“Can’t hail Thor,” Natasha says as the ship approaches the main city of Asgard.

“Why are we coming into the main city? The Frost Giants still have control of it -.” He’s about ready to throttle Clint but the man interrupts.

“We didn’t have a choice, the window was too small for re-entry and the H.C. couldn’t handle the angle. We either dropped in now over the city or we hang out in direct orbit for another fifteen hours hoping no one noticed us,” Clint says.

“Well, we’re sure as hell going to be noticed dropping in over the main fucking city,” Natasha says but keeps her eyes on the consoles as it scrolls information to her headset.

“We have to get ready for it, then,” Steve says. “Hawk, get up to the gunner pod. Be ready and don’t use up our ammunition.”

“Do I ever?” He jumps out of the seat and races down the passageway as Steve slides into the co-pilot chair.

“Shouldn’t you _not_ be announcing our arrival?”

Steve whips around to see Tony clutching onto the frame of the ship. He knows it is futile to ask him to go strap in. Instead, he turns to the console before him, clicks the comm link in place, and announces to the ship that they are going in for some rough flight patterns, please batten down.

“I didn’t think anyone actually said that, batten down the hatches.”

Steve glares at him but doesn’t say a word. “We have a crappy trajectory so we’re coming in hard and we’ll be trying to dodge the Frost Giant’s defenses. It isn’t going to be pretty.”

Tony leans against the console, his body impossibly close to Steve’s again. “Well, you are not wrong on that point, Captain. How maneuverable is this old bucket?”

“Not as much as I would like,” Steve says through gritted teeth. The ship breaks atmosphere, as they move out of the dead zone where transmissions are lost and sensors are blind to them. “Widow, what do you see?”

“They made us already, Cap, their sensors must have been tracking us, just waiting on us breaking the planetary air space. Surprised they didn’t take us out earlier.”

“Considering they’re used to the bifrost, I’m not,” Steve says. “Asgardian sensors have always been low tech, they’ve relied on Heimdall for too long.”

“Good assessment,” Tony adds and Steve only frowns at him.

“If you’re going to stay, strap in. There’s a safety harness, over there,” Steve points to the side hull where there is a small hatch. 

Natasha directs the ship in an arc looping around the burnt out remains of the capital, the shell of what had been the glory of Asgard. The shining star of Asgard dulls in a litter of ash and dust. There’s little left here to save, but Steve knows Thor is dedicated to his homeworld and will not abandon it.

Natasha angles the ship through the shattered cityline. It does little good because there are several fighters on their tail as they veer across the sky.

“Hawk, we got three coming up,” Steve says into the link. “Two on the port and one starboard. We have targets to the main engine coil.”

“Tell me about it, tell me about it.”

“Lay ‘em down and spread it out,” Steve calls back and then checks to see Tony watching them. His brow is furrowed, but he’s not looking out into the rushing landscape around them. His focus centers on Steve and Natasha.

Several rounds pulse out of the gunner’s pod and the fighters- large sleek ships that shouldn’t be in the hands of the Frost Giants in the first place- swerve to avoid the peppering of fire blasts. 

“I didn’t think Frost Giants were technologically advanced,” Tony says. 

“They’re not, but the remnants of the Dark Elves are,” Steve says. “Don’t you know your history.”

“I know our history, not Realm history.” 

The Howling Commando shudders as it takes a round from the ship on the right. Lights on the console warn of damage to the hull.

“Slipping, Hawk, slipping.”

“Got my eye on it,” Clint says.

“It’s a new development, anyhow,” Natasha says and banks the ship on a hard cut that throws them. Steve grips the side of the console and prays the ship can hold together. Natasha never misses a beat. “After invading Asgard, the Frost Giants caused all kinds of havoc across the Realms. Ended up waking up the Dark Elves. Not a good thing, but – okay- hold on we have incoming.”

The impact jolts them forward and he hears Tony huff against his restraints. Alarms ring through the cockpit and Natasha scrambles with the controls to heed the warnings. The gravitational forces shove at them as if a giant’s hand presses on their backs. All through it, Natasha works the controls, fighting for command of the ship as it shakes wildly in the air. “We have a hit to the engine.”

When he spots a warning display on the console, Steve yells over the comm, “Bruce, give me a report.”

“Steve, we are venting coolant, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to fix it in a short amount of time. I’m trying to bypass the engine and switch over to back up so you can glide her in.”

Steve glances over to Natasha and says, “Did you hear that?”

She only offers him that sardonic look and then says, “Oh gliding, yeah, that sounds great, gliding and avoiding. Sounds fun.”

“What’s the damage?” Tony asks as the ship sways against the next barrage of fire.

“They are hailing us and telling us to cease and to land immediately, Captain,” Natasha says.

“Ignore, send a distress signal as if we can’t make out what they’re hailing. Distract them,” Steve directs and Natasha swoops the Howling Commando low as the fighters streak past. 

“I said, what’s the damage?” Tony asks.

“Don’t worry, Sir Stark, we’ll get you to your final destination.” Steve says through gritted teeth as he assists Natasha in her struggle with the controls.

“I can help, you dumbass, let me help,” Tony says over the scream of the engines and the pounding of the fire as it hits the hull. Sparks fly from the panel to the right of the console and Natasha spins to the side to yank out wires to stop the possibility of fire.

Steve turns his attention back to the fire fight. “Hawkeye, tell me you’ve got them? Do you need sniper support?” He knows Bucky is probably itching to get into the sniper’s pod, but Steve hates to order Bucky into the pod. It’s dangerous and, every time he directs his friend into the pod, he feels a knot tighten in his gut.

“Give it time, Cap. I got one down, two to go, have ‘em in a minute,” Hawk reports.

“Less than that, we got engine troubles,” Steve says as he catches Tony ripping off his straps. Whipping around he says, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m going to save your butt, that’s what I’m doing.” His fingers fly over the buckles, unlocking them. As he frees himself from the straps the ship lurches and Tony’s flung forward, but not before Steve leaps from his chair and catches him. They tumble to the floor of the ship in a tangle of arms and legs. 

Remarkably, it is Tony who gathers himself up first and, as the ship rocks under the next bombardment, he says, “I’m an engineer let me help.”

“You dropped out of school,” Steve says as the sparks fly out of the side console near Natasha’s head.

“If you’re going to do something, you better do it now. She’s not happy and getting crankier by the minute,” Natasha says but she never looks at Steve. Her hands dash over the controls with precision. 

“Let’s go,” Steve says making the snap decision to trust a man trained as a hired whore. He wipes that from his brain, chastising himself. He shouldn’t think like that, people aren’t defined by their class. He fought long and hard against such divisions, all for naught. The memory of last night burns on his cheeks as they make their way through the passageways down to the gantry.

In seconds, they clamber down the metal ladder, all the way clinging to it as Natasha battles to steady the disabled ship. Tony jumps the last few rungs and Steve follows him. 

“This way,” Steve says and they race toward the engine room. Jumping the lip of the porthole, they enter into the cramped room. 

The main engine sits in its berth, taking up the majority of the space. Wrapped around it like arms is the cooling system which is in a double helix configuration. Several of the pipes are leaking, but Steve knows that’s nothing new.

“Bruce?” 

“Back here,” Bruce calls from behind the main section of the engine. Both Tony and Steve race to the back of the engine room. Here, the main engine connects to the auxiliary engines and the backup. 

Hanging from the main engine, there are wires and pipes spurting and sparking as they search for Bruce. He appears from behind the cylinder of the engine. “I can’t save the coolant without going outside. The leak is outside.”

“Have you tried to bypass the leak?” Tony says. He examines the piping and lines as he speaks. 

“Of course,” Bruce looks over to Steve. 

“He thinks he’s an engineer, now,” Steve says with a shrug, but the ship shudders again and everyone braces against the engine. 

Once the ship seems to be under Natasha’s control again, Tony says, “I am an engineer. Reports of my failure in that area have been greatly, and I mean greatly exaggerated.” He ducks below the wires and sidles up near Bruce. “Now, tell me what’s happening?”

“Steve?” Bruce says.

Steve gestures for Bruce to go ahead and humor Tony. “Have you got a better idea?” 

Bruce sighs and gestures for Tony to take over the console. After a few taps on the screen, the room goes dark and he hears a peep from Bruce and then the entire room hums back to life again. “What the hell did you do?”

Tony slaps Bruce on the arm – no one touches Bruce – no one. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, honeybear, this ain’t my first time around the block.”

“What?” Bruce looks a little green with frustration.

“Are you sure about this Tony?” Steve asks. He can’t have Bruce breaking apart, not now, not in the middle of a fire fight. 

“Just let me try this reroute.” He flicks a few more controls. “Tell sweet cheeks at the controls we’re gonna lose power for a few seconds.”

“What?” Steve yells. But before he can protest, the entire ship dies. Just freaking dies. “What the hell did you do?”

“Wait for it,” Tony says as Steve hears Natasha, Bucky, and Clint screaming in his comm link. Then like a bullet from a gun, the ship’s engines burst back to life launching forward and blaring out in triumph. Everyone pitches backward as it takes off and then flies forwards as the momentum stabilizes.

“Holy shit.” He hears Clint curse in his ear while Bucky is yelling something at Clint in the background. “Oh yeah, one more big shot and – there she goes. Sayonara, baby.”

“We just lost the last one,” Natasha says into his comm link and then over the ship’s intercom adds, “If you ever do that again, I will hurt you in places you didn’t even know could hurt.”

Steve glances over at Tony and he smirks. Shaking his head, Steve says, “I’d be careful, she was an assassin in a previous life.”

“Oh,” Tony says. “Good advice.”

“You want to tell me what you did?” Bruce asks.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, here look at this.” Tony winks at Steve and then turns back to the screen pointing out the code. “See here-.”

“I’ll leave you to it. We should be landing in approximately fifteen minutes.”

When Tony looks back at him, his smile is real and winning and also somehow sad. For a moment, Steve wants to ask all the questions, the ones bubbling up at the surface, the ones holding tight in the pit of his stomach, the ones clenched within him when he lies awake at night staring into the stars and thinking only of the mystery of the Courtesan called Sir.


	5. Chapter 5

“That is not going to happen, Thor, I can’t do it,” Steve says as he stares down at the former prince of Asgard. The famous brothers of the Realm sit at old gnarled wooden table with grooves and stains pitted into its veneer. Thor hunches over the table, making it look half its size while his brother slouches back in his seat, long legs stretched, eyes everywhere scanning their surroundings. Steve has no idea what he’s looking for, they are in an empty shack, burnt out from the battles. Little more than ash and dust are left here. It reminds Steve of the war, the other war, the place he once belonged.

“There is no other way, Steven, surely you understand, we have no other means by which to save the Realms from this treachery.” Thor stretches out his hand and it is open and empty. 

Steve looks up to the toppled ceiling of the shack which might have served as an eating establishment at one time. He recalls the time he sat in a burnt out building, drinking, trying to get drunk but failing. He had been mourning the loss of Bucky at the time. Peggy came to him then, spoke to him, led him out of the darkness into a different kind of light. She helped him realize his potential that not everything could be done in the clean and perfect way. She helped him see that he had a point, a purpose.

He wonders why the burdens still mount on his back. When does he get to shrug them lose? 

“Do you think the Elite even care about the Realms, Thor? They haven’t even tried to intercede,” Steve says and he hears Loki huff a sound that shows his resentment to the whole of the human race.

“My father, the Allfather refused to ask for assistance.”

“Because he was a stubborn old man,” Loki says and smiles as if he’s the snake relishing the desserts of the canary.

“He was a proud man, Loki, my brother. He was blinded by his pride. Our father-.”

“Your father, not mine,” Loki says with a hiss.

“And what of our mother, dear brother, do you cast her aside as well.”

Loki lowers his gaze and murmurs his reply. “She was not my mother.”

“And yet you weep for her,” Thor says and places a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. For a moment, Loki doesn’t react, in fact Steve can detect the slightest lean of Loki’s body toward his brother, but then he moves away and only lifts his upper lip in a snarl.

“We must find a way to take back our lands. Jotunheim and the Dark Elves are causing havoc throughout the Realms and who is to say they will be satisfied with just the Realms. The colonies of Midgard are like a rich orchard waiting for them to harvest.” 

“Pretty language, pretty language,” Steve mutters and bows his head. How does he get himself into such messes? This was supposed to be an easy drop, leave some foodstuffs and get out. SHIELD only looks the other way on these humanitarian missions because it breeds good will in the eyes of the public. Now, he’s going to be aiding and abetting a foreigner. 

“Please, I beg of you.”

Tony, who must have entered sometime during the discussion says, “Where’s the bifrost, the bridge. Why can’t you use that?”

Steve glances over his shoulder at Tony who is standing next to a silent, but menacing looking Bucky. Bucky won’t like it if Steve agrees. Bucky wants this to be over with and Steve owes him that much.

“The bifrost has been broken and Heimdall lost to us. We seek him, but we do not have the eyes and abilities he had. So he is lost to the wider universe,” Thor states but his eyes show a fatigue, a weakness that Steve never thought possible.

It breaks him. “So, you just want transport to the Inner Belts?”

“To your Capital, yes, so that my brother and I may beseech your rulers, your Elite class to come and assist us before the Dark Elves and their allies the Frost Giants overwhelm the Realms and look toward Midgard.” Thor searches each of them; Steve can see he’s looking for the weakness, the place to wheedle in.

“I thought it was the Frost Giant leading this band of merry men?”

“Do not be fooled by appearances, the Frost Giants took an opportunity, but it is the Dark Elves who seek to destroy Asgard and the Nine Realms so that they may reform it with their dark energy.”

Steve turns from Thor and walks over to Bucky. He feels the tension in waves through the air from his friend, his brother, but at the same time he experiences something different, something like a desire to help from Tony. It is a strange juxtaposition from the two men. He frowns and says, “Let’s step outside.”

The three of them walk out of the burnt building and Bucky leads them across the crumbled town to an open area with a shattered fountain of Odin on his noble horse. As Steve glances up at it, the head of the horse is cracked and gone, while Odin misses both arms, Bucky says, “We really don’t have time for this.”

“I don’t see why we don’t,” Tony says. “We’re going to the same place; we can give them a ride.”

“Since when are you part of the crew? You are a passenger, you don’t get a vote,” Bucky snaps.

“I wasn’t aware we were voting, because if we are then I should get three votes.”

Bucky crosses his arms and hisses, “Oh yeah, how do you figure?”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says and holds up his hands. “Stop it, both of you. Bucky, I understand your point, we don’t have time for this, and we don’t have the leeway for the trouble. But.” He places a finger in the air to stop the protest. “But, Thor’s argument is sound. If the Dark Elves are after the Nine Realms and they consider Midgard-.”

“Midgard is Earth, they can have the toxic wasteland.”

“But they won’t stop at Earth,” Tony says. “What makes you think they’ll stop? Idiots and dictators have a hard time figuring out when they’ve stayed past their welcome.”

“Don’t know why you give a rat’s ass, since you’re one of the Elite Class,” Bucky replies. 

“You know one of the things that really pisses me off is that people think that just because I was born to the Elite Class that I agree with the system. I don’t, so bugger off.”

“Bugger? Fuck you.”

“Yeah, I just said that,” Tony says.

“Okay that’s enough,” Steve says. He shakes his head and examines the hollowed out town. No one is here, the place is abandoned. Thor evacuated everyone. The supplies will be transported to their newest hiding place. He wonders where the rest of Thor’s friends are, the Warriors 3 and his comrades. “From what Thor has told me the whole of the Realm is overrun. We don’t have a lot of time to make this decision.”

“It isn’t ours to make. It isn’t our concern. The bigwigs do this, not us.” Bucky turns his face into the wind. It is bitter cold on Asgard, the cold stiffness of winter seeps through the forest near the edge of the bombarded town. 

“Do the bigwigs even care?” Steve says. “There’s a time when you have to pick what you can do. There’s time when you have to put things above yourself, Buck.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, you are going to do it.”

“I don’t see how I can’t, Bucky, please understand.”

Bucky hunches forward, his brow tight and his glare accusing. “You put everyone above the crew, everyone. This is important to us. I want out; you saved me for what, Steve? For what? A life of servitude? God fucking damn it.”

“Hey, hey, you’re going to get your money from me,” Tony says. “I have a big window to get there, big, don’t worry about-.”

“What the fuck?” Bucky says. “Do you even hear yourselves? You’re the idiots. The Elite Class of the Inner Belts, they don’t give a shit. They lie around hooked up to the vids and virtuals. They find out you been mucking with the works, causing hate and discontent, what the fuck do you think they’re gonna do? Steve, do you even hear yourself?” 

The look Bucky gives him harkens back to the days they ran runs against Hydra one of the first Corps to try and grab for power outright. Back then, it had been their small but close knit group, called the Howling Commandos, going after Hydra, raid after raid. Bucky had always been his right hand man, his sniper, his confidant. Until he couldn’t support him, until that last raid.

“That’s it, no more discussion, I’m telling Thor. Get the vessel ready.”

Steve moves off but Bucky grabs his elbow. “You’re gonna regret this, you know that don’t you?”

He half smiles and says, “Yeah, I know, Buck, I do.”

Bucky stalks off toward the ship and calls out to Natasha who is currently loading one of the crates onto a rover to bring it to the hideout for Thor’s people. Steve watches for a moment as he sees them discuss his plans. Natasha observes him from a distance, nods once, and gets back to work with Bucky tailing her.

Sighing, Steve goes to tell Thor his decision, but Tony catches him this time.

“You’re doing the right thing.”

“Thank you, but I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“What, you think taking down a threat to humanity isn’t my kind of business?”

Steve eyes him with his expensive suit, his stylish hair, his devil may care attitude. “Stark, all you are is a man in a suit, take that away and what are you?”

“Some might say I’m a billionaire, a playboy, a philanthropist, a genius, but you, boy, you’ll never know the right of it with that attitude.”

If Steve didn’t know better, he’d think Tony was challenging him, but he knows better and understands how the privileged class acts. “People like you from the Elite Class just don’t get it. You’re not special, you’re not a hero and you better stop thinking that you can be one.”

“A hero, like you? I read about you, I know about you, everyone does, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

Steve looks the man up and down and something deep inside aches because all he identifies is contempt and malice. “Get out of my way. Go back to the ship, you’re not helping here.”

He ignores the mutterings as he climbs over the shell of the building to find Thor and his brother in deep conversation. 

“Get ready, once we have the transport of the goods off the ship, we’re taking off. It’ll be a bumpy ride-.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Loki says.

Steve raises a brow, but shrugs at the same time. “Whatever, it’s better than having my ship blown apart by your kin.”

“Not mine,” Loki says.

Steve stops and waits, then looks at Thor. “Can we trust him?”

“Captain, my mother,” Loki looks at Thor as he speaks. “Our mother was killed by the Dark Elves.” Steve nods, thinking he’s finished but in a dark seething voice he says, “Trust my rage.”

Steve considers him, knows he’s risking everything, and only nods. When he leaves the burnt out building and heads back to the ship, he feels more alive than he’s ever felt, since they awakened him.

Later, after they’ve unloaded some supplies for the hidden settlement on Asgard, moved the rest of the cargo housed in Steve’s quarters to the small cramped area they like to call the medical bay, and settled in their new passengers, Steve disappears once they’ve launched and managed to elude the Frost Giants as well as the Dark Elves. It gets dicey for a bit but Bucky fits into the sniper pod while Clint is in the gunner. They are nothing but efficient as they take out the pursuers. Steve hates sending Bucky into the sniper pod because it is so exposed, but it allows those sharp shots that the gunner’s pod just doesn’t. The ship jumps as soon as they hit the safety zone and they are out of harm's way.

Once they do and the ship falls back into its routine, Steve climbs down into the cargo bay. Happy sits next to the shipping crate, and only nods at him as he ducks under the metal walkway and finds the punching bag he stores in the nook below the ladder.

He hooks it up and then shrugs off his jacket, his shirt. He tosses his fingerless gloves to the side and tapes up his hands. He never uses boxing gloves. He takes his time as he tapes, measuring the tightness, flexing his hands to ensure the mobility as well as the padding.

The first few punches ricochet through his muscles like a vibration down the string of an instrument. It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it punishes and it’s what he needs right now. He wishes the feeling, the shock and jolting surprise of each hit would stay for his entire work out, but it doesn’t. Eventually, each impact with the bag begins a slow and steady burn of his muscles, from his forearms, to his shoulders, to his chest, and into his back and waist as he sways into each punch. It becomes a thumping beat and he follows the rhythm of it until he’s lost in his brain.

He knows Bucky is pissed at him. Bucky wants this commission to be in and done. It’s bad enough that they aren’t just skipping from jump to jump with short stops to refuel and restock all the way to the Inner Belts. Steve insists that they have to stop off and deliver needed supplies to settlements, colonies, and those in need. Bucky relents on these points because he’s a kid from the Rims, too. They both know how difficult it is for the kids.

Adding Asgardian politics to the mix will sour Bucky and he’ll become more dour as the trip progresses. As long as Thor and his brother stay out of the way, Steve thinks he can convince Bucky there’s no real difference with this course of action and their original path. There’s no deviation from their original flight plan, anyway, just a drop off at the Inner Belts for Thor and Loki.

No biggie.

They should still complete the commission without a problem. They’ll get their money for delivering Courtesan Stark to his sponsor. He slams his fist hard into the bag and it sends a pulse echoing up his arm. He goes at it with a new fury, beating the bag over and again. The thought pierces through him like one of the migraines he used to suffer as a child. He allows the frustrating feeling, the raging emotion to blind him, overwhelm him because he needs to allow it. He needs to just become the machine, hitting the bag.

“Whoa, what’d that bag ever do to you?” 

It takes a moment for the words to register. He stops the pounding, but not before getting deeper into it. He takes a final swing and the bag rebels and flies off of the hook to burst onto the floor, leaving a trail of sand all over the floor. Frowning, he turns to see Tony leaning against the pole with his arms crossed against his chest.

“What’d you like, Sir Stark?”

“Going the formal route now, Captain?”

He sighs and peels the tape away. His knuckles are torn and seep blood, and he grimaces. “You always call me, Captain.”

“You’ve never told me to call you Steve.”

Steve quirks his eyebrows; Tony isn’t wrong. He doesn’t invite him to change the title. 

Tony huffs a little in response and goes to the duffle bag Steve has tucked into the nook where he keeps the punching bag. He digs through it and finds a roll of gauze and antiseptic. “Come here.”

“I don’t usually need-.” 

“Get over here and let me do this,” Tony says and clips some of the gauze off the roll with a knife he pulls out of the bag. He squeezes the tube of antiseptic cream onto the gauze and then dabs at Steve’s shredded knuckles. “Like to punish yourself?”

“Not sure what you mean?”

“Sure you do,” Tony says but doesn’t explain. As he works on Steve’s hand, holding it, Steve notes the calluses on his fingers and pads of his palms as if he works a lot with his hands. Steve raises a brow at that but doesn’t mention it. 

“I should apologize.” Steve wants to pull his hand away, but he likes the light touch, the gentle tender sweep of the gauze against the sting of his torn flesh. “You’re my customer and I had no right.”

Tony shakes his head as he works. “You’re going to apologize because I’m a paying customer?”

“No, no,” Steve says and tries to drag his hand away. Tony catches it, holds in, turns his hand over and traces circles on his palm. Steve forces his eyes up. Tony’s eyes are in shadow except for the muted light from the glowing circle in his chest. It casts a blue sheen against his face. “I wanted, I wanted to apologize.”

“Because?”

“Because I shouldn’t judge you, I don’t even know you.” Steve swallows and his mouth is dry, parched like the desert moons of the Farther Worlds beyond the Rims. 

“You’re an interesting man, Captain,” Tony says and never stops massaging Steve’s hand. “Awake after centuries, trying to live up to the legend, trying to do the right thing, but completely and utterly handicapped.”

“I’m not so sure-.”

Tony speaks lowly as if he wants no one else to hear. “Yes you do, Captain. You try, in this broken ship they gave you. I’ve seen the publicity shots on the Grid. I’ve seen it cast on the Rag-nets. You drop off foodstuffs, supplies to all the poor, and SHIELD can show what a good Corp they are.” He has one of Steve’s hands in his two and he slowly curls his fingers around and cradles Steve in his hands. “Is that why you agreed to help Thor? To live up to the legend, to do the right thing by SHIELD?”

Steve does want to pull his hand away, but he can’t – he’s mesmerized. “It isn’t about SHIELD or living up to the legend.”

Tony’s eyes go soft in the ethereal light. “That’s good to know, Captain, it’s good to know that the legend still believes.” He brings Steve’s hand up to his lips, kisses the cleaned knuckles and says, “Apology accepted, Captain. It’s good to know you’re more than a magic serum from a bottle.”

Before Steve responds, Tony disappears up the ladder with Happy following behind him. He stands there for a moment, staring into the middle distance, feeling Tony’s lips on the sensitive flesh of his hand. He glances down at his hand, blinks, and wakes himself from the stupor. He needs to clean up the mess; he needs to get his head on straight. As he sweeps up the sand from the bag and gathers it so he can stitch up the bag again, he concedes there’s more to Tony Stark than the Rag-nets show and he confesses he wants to find out for more reasons than he wants to admit.


	6. Chapter 6

When no one is around, when the ship quiets and settles for the night as they journey toward the Rims, Steve lounges back in the pilot’s chair and places the sketch pad on his legs. Since they launched and did the leap through hyper dimensional space and then fell out of it again toward their first drop off in the Rims, he sought out peace and solitude.

It is a rare thing on the Howling Commando these days, they are stuffed with people sleeping and bedding down just about on any level surface. Tony still had the only separate quarters, not that he’d insisted on it. As Captain he designated where people slept most of the time, and Tony paid a bundle, and therefore deserved his own quarters. 

The removal of some of the crates from Steve’s quarters for delivery on Asgard left enough room to house the Asgardian brothers – not really but they had to make do. And they did with little complaint. It left Steve without any sanctuary at all, since he slept in the racks with the rest of the crew (except for Natasha since she had her own quarters as well – not because of her gender but she is the pilot and therefore is afforded such luxuries – plus the Pilot Guild would have his skin if she didn’t have her own place. Who she chooses to share it with is her own business – at this time Ms. Potts still finds her rest there – while Happy, well, Happy Steve couldn’t figure out at all). 

Steve hated the racks, or as they were often called, the coffin racks. Lying there with the next cot just centimeters above his face closed the walls in on him; brought back memories that he couldn’t be sure are real or not. He spends most of his nights in the cockpit, anyway. Sometimes he naps, other times, he sits with the sketch pad, drawing.

The jump had been short this time, so it will take an extra few days to get to their first delivery point. As he brushes the pencil over the paper, relishing in the scratch of it, the feel of friction, the sound of it, he hears the now familiar shuffle in the passageway.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” he calls without turning around to peer at his visitor.

“What good would a Courtesan be if I slept all the time?” Tony says as he enters the darkened room. “Brought gifts.” He holds up a silver flask. “Have some?”

Steve shrugs. “Won’t affect me, the serum takes care of it too fast.”

“Just drink, you lug.”

“Lug? Bucky been talking to you?” Steve says and grasps the silver flasks. He twists off the top, takes a tentative sip, then a larger swallow. It burns enough to feel it near his eyeballs. Hissing he gives it back to Tony. “What’d you get that from the engine or something?”

Tony laughs. “I’ll have you know this is particularly expensive shit.” He drinks it, hitches a little, and then sighs. “What’s with the paper, are you that out of time, old man?”

Steve only raises his shoulder. “I used to draw, back in the day. Was in a school that taught traditional, didn’t go for the enhance digitized stuff. It was classic.”

“Ah, a budding Michelangelo,” Tony says with a smile that isn’t teasing or taunting, but somehow soft and tender.

Chuckling, Steve lowers his head and says, “More like Steve McNiven.”

“Steve Mcwho?”

“A comic book illustrator back in the day,” Steve says and flips the pages closed as Tony peers over to catch a glimpse of his work.

“Aw, now you’re not going to share? Didn’t your teachers ever tell you that’s not nice?”

“Where I come from sharing meant you went hungry. So, no I never learned to share,” Steve says but it isn’t unkind.

Tony glances out at the system. It is a swarm of planets, asteroids, stations. This is the heart of the industrial workings of humanity these days. This is hell. His expression reads as intense, an intensity, Steve wouldn’t normally think to find in Courtesans, but then again he’s only been around one Courtesan from a far. 

“Never really been to the Rim worlds, not truly,” Tony says but doesn’t take his eyes off the mess of worlds, of stations, of places that just might be this side of hell. 

“Too bad, I was born there, you don’t know what you’re missing,” Steve says and checks their flight plan. Clint has a nice clean path that should bring them to their first destination within a few days. 

“I’ve seen it, don’t get me wrong, back in the day,” Tony says and swallows as if he’s tasted something that’s sour and full of bile.

“Doesn’t suit a lot of people, you can stay on the ship while we deliver the goods.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tony says with an acidic tone. He heaves in a breath and released it in measured exhalations. “You know, you make it hard to like you.”

Steve laughs but it isn’t joyous but like a harsh gamble in this throat. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“I’m a Courtesan, I’ve trained to be likable.” 

“You’ve trained to be desired, there’s a difference.”

Tony tilts his head and says, “You’re not wrong.”

“Nope, not at all,” Steve looks away and turns his face to the console by the side of the ship, because if he doesn’t Tony might spy the heat in his cheeks. Tony has trained very well. There’s always something lurking in Tony’s glance, his expression, as if he’s hungry and he’s telegraphing that it is you he desires. Steve finds it unsettling to say the least.

“But the Rim, I’ve been there, don’t get me wrong,” Tony continues to talk through Steve’s flash of want as if he doesn’t know why Steve is avoiding looking at him. “The squalor, the need, it’s all so hopeless, and helpless.” The way Tony says it causes Steve to turn, to study him. He doesn’t voice it as if he’s disgusted, but the opposite like it is a horror to him and he wants to fix it but just cannot figure out how.

“It isn’t helpless or hopeless,” Steve says and he speaks lowly as if he doesn’t want to disturb this place they’ve ventured upon. “Everyone, even the most downtrodden, hopes for better. If people from the Inner Belts would wake up long enough from their vids and virtuals they might just see what is going on with the rest of humanity, want to help.”

Tony shakes his head and laughs a little. “You are seriously an optimist.”

“What other way is there to be?” Steve asks as he checks through the final trajectories.

“So, you and your little merry band here are going to save humanity with your little bucket of loose bolts and, while you’re at it, you’re going to save Asgard along the way.”

“Well, when you put it that way-.” Steve offers him a smile that’s not just derisive but also touched with affection. If it was another time or place, and Tony was a different person, Steve could see opening his heart to him, reaching forward and honestly wanting him. But it isn’t a different time, he’s lost that time, and Tony doesn’t belong to him. 

“You have a good heart, Captain, but I’ve afraid it will be for naught, maybe you should have stayed in stasis.” Tony softens his expression as he observes Steve. While he doesn’t feel stripped bare, it does touch him oddly, and somehow provokes a twisted charm, a sizzle within his belly. He pushes the thoughts away, and concentrates only on what Tony said.

“I think that all the time,” Steve mutters.

“I commend your spirit, but I worry about your longevity,” Tony says and pulls a drink from the flask. He tucks it back in his pocket and leans over the console. “Well, let’s see what we can do with this half-assed ship so that you can save humanity.” He flicks through the screen scanning the specifications of the Howling Commando. 

“Hmm, I’d rather you didn’t do that,” Steve says, sitting up straight in his seat. 

“Seriously, it takes you three jumps to get through to the Mining Stations from here?” Tony pulls up the calculations and whistles.

“They’re perfect.” Steve goes to swipe them away but Tony stays his hand. The touch brings back the feel of Tony’s lips on Steve knuckles and he slips his hand away. He can’t think of Tony like that, he can’t.

“I’m not saying the calculations are off, because they are not. What I am saying is that you are working with an archaic system. It’s no wonder it takes you three months to get to the Inner Belts.” 

“If you wanted to get there faster, you could have just booked a luxury liner or a wide open,” Steve says.

Tony raises a single eyebrow and pouts his lips a little before he says, “Of course, I could have, Captain, but I didn’t, did I?” He turns back to the computer console before Steve can gather his wits to reply. Tony taps through the program and somehow gets into the Howling Commando’s operating system.

“Hey, hey, how’d you do that?”

Tony winks at him. “Genius, engineer, right up my alley.”

“I thought you were a Courtesan,” Steve says but doesn’t stop Tony from his search through the ship’s inner workings. He’s seen a bit of what Tony can do, and perhaps a little touch of genius is what the old gal needs.

“That, among other things, my good Captain,” Tony says and glances up at Steve with a quick quirk of his eyebrows. 

Steve bites back his reply because he can feel his cheeks redden and he turns away to hide the blush. 

They fall into a silence as Tony concentrates on the lines of code and cross references a pad he’s pulled from his side pocket. He keeps talking to someone named Jarvis, and Steve wonders if that is Happy’s real name or something. 

After about an hour, when Steve leans the chair back and thinks he might drift off to find his way to a comfortable two or three hours of sleep, but Tony interrupts him with a _Eureka_.

Rubbing at his face (he is desperately tired from days of sleep in the pilot seat), Steve says, “What’s that?”

“Eureka, a not so common anymore exclamation of discovery or enlightenment,” Tony quips as he flows through the code again.

“Funny, the Courtesan Engineer has a sense of humor too, how did I get so lucky,” Steve says and rights the pilot chair in order to lean closer to the console Tony’s working on. 

“You need a full upgrade, but I can do some work on it now so that the calculations are a little easier to do. Don’t know why you don’t have the computer doing it,” Tony says as he taps out the code.

“Doesn’t work, our navigational controls are shit end and SHIELD hasn’t upgraded them since before I was born, I’m pretty sure.”

Tony nods and scowls. “That is not an under estimation, my good Captain. One has to wonder what the fuck SHIELD is doing sending people out in buckets like this one.”

“SHIELD plays the Corp game, just like everyone else,” Steve says and watches as Tony modifies the code of the navigational computer. “They don’t want to invest in something that’s working as far as they see it.”

“They see as far as their nose, just like all the other Corps.” Tony hisses at the computer when it rejects his update. He murmurs something to his pad again and a distinct voice unlike Happy answers him, though Steve doesn’t understand the computer jargon it spouts.

“Just like Stark Corp?”

Tony looks over his shoulder at Steve and stops. “Don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not the head of Stark Corp, Stane is.”

“You could have been,” Steve replies. He wants to know, just being so close to Tony, interacting with him urges Steve to find out, know.

Tony bows his head, looking at the grated floor. “Yeah, yeah, I could have been, but I’m not. Stane got the last laugh on that one.”

There’s something there, Steve knows he should let sleeping dogs lie, but he just can’t do it. “You don’t like Stane?”

Tony stands up, practically shoving the console away. “I don’t often like people who try to kill me, Captain.”

“Kill you?” Steve says and follows Tony to his feet.

“I’ll need to get supplies to update this crapola you’re flying. I think I have some of them, but I can probably trade for others.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Steve says. “Kill you, Tony? Are you being coerced? Is someone trying to hurt you? Is Stane-?”

Tony stands at the portal, hand braced on the frame of the ship, facing away from Steve. For a moment, he glances back, but he’s in shadow and Steve cannot read his expression. “Let it be, soldier boy, there are things out there that even a hero like you can’t conquer.”

Tony departs before Steve opens his mouth to question him. 

Over the intervening days, Steve keeps an eye out for Tony and tries to balance what he sees with what he has come to know in the past few weeks. Tony spends a lot of time with his assistant, Pepper, and Steve wonders if the two are a pair. It isn’t unheard of for a Courtesan to have a relationship outside of the profession. For some reason this burns a hole into Steve’s gut and he shoves it down, ignoring the burn of jealousy. 

The jealousy mixes with the worry for Tony. He wonders if he should quiz Pepper, or even Happy. There’s something under the surface, they are a close knit group and whisper amongst themselves often.

The crew spends a lot of the time during the flight gathered in the galley when not otherwise engaged. The Howling Commando isn’t a luxury liner or a wide open and it demands attention like a petulant lover. Most of the hours are spent on maintenance and no one has ever complained. He’s not sure if it’s the oddball crew he has or if they just like to be loners. But this trip, this trip the crew makes a point to hang out in the galley. Steve knows why – it isn’t a surprise at all.

Tony Stark not only hogs the limelight – he is the limelight. He shines like the nascent stars bright and hot, and it worries Steve. It is the hot and bright ones that burn out the fastest, that barely exit the nebular clouds of dust to be birthed. On one particular morning, after Steve wipes away the cobwebs of not enough sleep, he finds his way to the galley and ends up knocking into a crowd of people – his crew listening to Tony Stark like he’s a damned Rag-net star, which Steve has to admit – he is.

“I’m on the run, close to the finish line and Vanko swoops in and tries to take the lead. He uses some damned whip weapon to try and neutralize my racer.”

“He did neutralize it, according to what I saw on the Rag-net,” Bucky says. He’s standing back, easy and confident near the counter. His arms are folded, the metal one gleaming in the dull light of the kitchen. 

“He fucking tried,” Tony says. “But I had a few tricks up my sleeve that stopped all of that.” Tony looks over at Pepper who’s currently sitting very properly at the table, sipping tea. His eyes grow fond when he glances her way. “Pep and Happy were there. They can tell you, I got out of that jam.”

“Barely, Tony, you ended up with a lot more than a few scrapes along the way.” Pepper smiles at him and there’s a sweetness to it that makes Steve want to escape. From across the room he sees Bucky raise a brow at him and sighs. He should never play poker, his entire emotional profile is written all over his face.

Clint must have been watching, because he jumps in to save Steve. “We’re about to set up the vids. Kind of cramped but it might be nice to watch some vintage stuff. Gotta library of the old time crap.”

“You can barely make out the sound on those anymore,” Natasha says.

“Bruce can tell us what they’re saying; he’s got all the dialogue memorized anyhow.” Clint taps the side panel of the kitchen counter and the empty wall near the table converts into a screen. 

Loki rolls his eyes and shuffles off, pushing past Steve with only a mumbled apology.

“I apologize for my brother; he’s not used to such accommodations.”

“He’s not used to slumming it,” Bucky says and snickers. “Might teach him a thing or two about how things are in the real world.”

“Your brother’s brain is like a bag of cats, you can smell crazy on him,” Bruce says as he scrolls through the listing of vids to watch. 

Clint puts his hand out onto Thor’s chest and the man visually vibrates with irritation. “Let’s hold off on the smashing and thrashing until we’re planetside. Right now, I’m making popcorn and we’re watching vids.”

“Popcorn, what is this popcorn.”

Clint starts to explain but Tony turns to Steve and says, “I need a secure channel to comm with my sponsor. I wanted to try in my quarters but I’m pretty sure that SHIELD has a bug on it.”

“A bug on it?”

“My assistant is fairly savvy, Captain.”

“Oh, yes,” Steve hisses. He glances at Natasha who is currently engaged in a debate about the worthiness of one vid compared to another. “We normally have the ship cleared of most devices, but-.”

“I got you, Captain, you have to leave some so they don’t get suspicious. We knew from the get go, no worries. I just need a secure channel to talk. You think I could use the one in the cockpit?” 

Steve considers it, there’s only one other link and that’s the one in Steve’s quarters. Tony can’t use that because Loki and Thor are holed up in there. He nods. “Sure, let me get you connected.”

He leaves the joviality of the galley and Tony follows him. “Sorry about that, know you need a break, too.”

“No problem, I’ll probably go back to the racks and get some shut eye.” Even as he says it his body tenses involuntarily. The thought of the closed quarters shuts around him like a vise, it feels like the ice pressing against him, compressing him like the gravity of a black hole.

As they walk to the bow of the ship, Tony says, “If you want, you can use my quarters.”

Steve stops and regards Tony. He’s shocked but, at the same time, a grateful surge runs through him. Tony reads it wrong, which surprises Steve.

Raising his hands as if in surrender, he says, “Your honor is safe with me, Captain, I just thought you might like a nice place to bed down.”

“I thought Happy would be sleeping,” Steve says and climbs into the cockpit.

“He’s not, he likes to watch the Operas on the vid-stream. I keep telling him I can record them, but he always wants to see them in real-time. Like there is a real-time, he’s nuts. He’s down in the cargo bay locked to his pad. Seriously, get some rest, you look like death warmed over.” Tony places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. It feels comfortable like it belongs there.

Steve frowns at him but then turns back to the console. He hits the keys, allows the retinal scan and the finger pulse to be measured. “H.C., allow Sir Stark limited guest access to the comm link.”

It reads out affirmation.

“Wow, that is antique. Seriously, she doesn’t even speak to you,” Tony says.

Steve only smiles. To him, the Howling Commando has a voice; she sounds a lot like Peggy. He pats the console and steps aside. 

Tony touches him again, just the slightest of pat to his shoulder, and says, “Go take a load off, Captain, you haven’t slept in a decent bed the entire trip. Please.”

He keeps his hand on Steve’s arm, lightly enough that he can barely feel the weight of it. But it is there and it has presences and it consumes him. “Thanks, I think-.”

“I think you will,” Tony says and the glow of light from under his silk shirt seems to pulse in the dark cockpit.

“Okay, thanks, Tony.”

He turns to leave and when Tony’s hand slips away, he feels the throb of his heart in his throat as it deafens his ears. He tries to convince himself that he is not going to Tony’s quarters, he’s not going to sleep in another man’s bed, and he’s not lying down where a Courtesan of all people rests. He even tells himself these lies as he opens the door and finds the bed waiting for him. 

“He just didn’t hook it back up,” Steve whispers and crosses the one step to the side of the bed, thinking he’ll lift it and stow it back in its place in the wall of the ship. As he grips the side of the bed he notices a distinct fragrance. His enhanced senses swim with it, he leans down and inhales.

Whispering, he says, “Tony.” 

Tony doesn’t always wear cologne and the amount he does wear normally is so subtle and light it just beguiles and doesn’t saturate. He hates it when people soak themselves in the stuff, it just gags him. But Tony doesn’t do that, Steve wonders if the Guild taught him that, if he knows how too much is never the right thing, just enough is. He finds a seat on the bed; he’s exhausted. Weeks of sleeping in the cockpit have wrecked his internal clock. His head droops as he settles back.

“Just for a minute,” he murmurs as he drops down onto the soft mattress. It feels like a caress against his bone weary limbs, his stressed back. He closes his eyes and luxuriates in the feel of the mattress, the comfort. A snatch of the fragrance teases him again and he all but moans out Tony’s name.

He is such a handsome man, with his playful eyes and smart smile. The clothes make the man, someone once said, and that is no lie for Tony. The silks he wears are made to entice. Steve wonders if Tony will wear the traditional garb of the Courtesan when he meets up with his sponsor. Steve’s seen it in vids and on the Rag-nets. 

Gauzy fabric, he doesn’t know what kind. He wishes he knew – it’s opaque yet has a see through quality to it. He imagines what Tony must look like with his lithe form that’s muscular but not overly built like Steve. The feel of the cusp of his shoulder, down the line of his bicep, and maybe, just maybe toward the glowing center of his chest, it all merges in a dreamlike state in his head. He thinks of the touch of Tony’s nipples, how they might perk up under his gentle caress, how Tony might hitch a breath as Steve leans in and kisses, nuzzles his neck to smell his cologne. 

Steve closes his eyes, and rubs his face against the cushion of the pillow. The thoughts of Tony running through his head shiver through him like ice against too hot flesh. He shudders and finds his hand cupping his erection. He tugs and pulls a few times before he stops himself. He blinks away the thoughts but cannot completely discard them. Tony’s a beautiful man; attraction is an animal instinct Steve tells himself. It isn’t a surprise. Tony is in the business of attraction and desire; it must be second nature to him to use his allure on people, to get people to do his bidding. Steve is nothing special to him, but the power of Tony’s sensuality cannot be denied. He groans as he squeezes, and strokes but then forces himself to stop.

“Shit,” Steve murmurs. He cannot jerk off in his guest’s quarters, especially not in Tony’s room, in his damned bed. “Shit.” He rolls over but that just makes it worse because now he has friction and he can smell Tony even more. He closes his eyes and feels the roughness of his clothes against the heat of his flesh. He groans into the pillow and measures his breathing to even out the desire, stoke it back. 

Bucky’s right, he needs to get laid. 

He releases his hold and spreads his hand over the sheets. He thinks how it would be to caress a hand down Tony’s back. Feline, he thinks, Tony has the grace and movement of a cat of prey mixed with sexuality. Tony is sexuality but there’s brains and kindness. That’s the allure, that’s the secret to his success as a Courtesan. He’s both graceful and dangerous. Is this why Steve’s attracted to him? He needs to get up, get out of Tony’s bed. But dreams of Tony flitter through his brain and he’s too damned tired to move. Well, this might be a little bit of a blessing, perhaps he’s a little too exhausted to fuck around.

He closes his eyes, inhales and drifts to the smell of Tony surrounding him like a cloak. He imagines Tony surround him, wrapping him tight in his body. He allows himself to drift on the images, on the dream. He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he jolts awake with the fear pounding in his chest, the images of fire and explosions and Bucky plunging away into the Ravine’s Edge. The feel of pain and ice shock through him and he can’t breathe, can’t catch his breath. His whole body shakes but he latches onto the calm soothing tones calling to him, telling him it’s okay.

Opening his eyes, he shivers and fingers curl into his hand. He holds on and waits for the after images of his memories, the flashback to dissipate. The figure resolves and he sees Tony perched on the side of the bed, whispering to him.

“Come on, Captain, it’s okay. Quiet now.”

“What?” He wraps a hand over his face and presses his fingers into his eyes. He was just forcing himself not to jerk off and now he’s recovering from nightmare. He shudders against the whiplash of it. He flickers his eyes a few times to clear the memories. “Where?”

“In my bed, Captain, my Captain,” Tony says still petting Steve’s hair from his face as if they are lovers.

“Oh, oh,” Steve says and pulls away from Tony as he sits up. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have-.”

“I invited you, Captain,” Tony says, his voice is low and heavy in its aspect. Steve almost imagines Tony’s desire is real for him.

Steve notices their hands are still entangled. He peels his fingers away but then doesn’t know what to do with his hand, finally deciding to slide his clasped hands between his knees as he sits on the edge of the bed with Tony.

“Did you have a good sleep?” 

Finally, he comes to his senses, his slumber and the haunting of its images dissipating in degrees. Steve stumbles to his feet, he really should leave. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for that.”

Tony shrugs. “I don’t sleep a lot, the curse of a brain that doesn’t know how to stop.” He taps his temple and smiles. “Been working a little with your resident engineer, and can I say that while Doctor Banner is a brilliant guy, he is not an engineer. He should not be futzing around with this ship. He’s gonna end up turning everyone into rage monsters or something with the freaking leaks of gamma radiation down there.”

“Damn, I asked him if it was dangerous,” Steve says and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll go-.”

Tony waves him off. He looks tired as if the weight of the worlds around them burdens his shoulders. “No worries, I fixed it.”

“You, you fixed it?” Steve tries to rectify what he’s hearing with where he is and the fading memories of his dream. 

“Yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist there, sweetheart, I could do it in my sleep. Engineer, remember?”

“Right,” Steve says, still disbelieving.

“My professors were morons. It’s hard to stay in school when you know more than the teachers,” Tony says and he gets up to open up one of his cases. “Want some?” He lifts a flask. 

“No, thanks, I have to get back.”

He stands back up as Steve goes to the door. As Steve rotates the lever to unlock the port door, Tony reaches out and touches his arm. It isn’t a catch like before on Asgard, but a hand simply put on his shoulder. “You’re welcome anytime, Captain.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Tony looks him up and down and, with his other hand, placed on his own chest, says, “I get the whole nightmares, bad memories, Captain.”

“Th-thanks,” Steve says and knows that’s not the right answer, but he steps out into the passageway.

“Anytime, Captain, anytime.” The port closes with Tony still peering after him. 

Steve escapes only to turn right into Bucky lurking in the corridor. “Bucky, geez warn a guy.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Bucky says. “I told you to get laid, but not play around with the Courtesan. Jesus, Steve, what the hell?”

“It isn’t what it looks like.”

“It never is,” Bucky hisses. His hand, his metal hand clenched around Steve’s bicep. “Come on, Steve, I know it’s tough out here, but we’re just a few days out from the Rim. You can get a good fuck there.”

Steve yanks his arm away. “Geez, Bucky, nice. It isn’t what it seems at all. Seriously, Stark was down in the engine room with Bruce. For Pete’s sake, Bucky, not everything is about sex.”

Bucky relaxes a degree and shares a look with Steve after he glances at Tony’s door. “We gotta talk.” He draws Steve away from the door as if Tony might be able to hear through the thick steel of the ship’s haul. “Stark didn’t contact his sponsor.”

“Shit, Bucky, you shouldn’t be listening in on his comms. That’ll cut into our pay more than anything else.”

“You wanna hear it or are you gonna be all prissy about it on me?” Bucky scowls at him.

Steve furrows his brows and sighs. Arms crossed over his chest, he says, “Fine, who’d he call?”

“Colonel James Rhodes of the First Inner Patrol.”

“Rhodes?” Steve glares at the port door to Tony’s quarters. 

“We’re screwed, Steve,” Bucky says. “If he’s talking with Rhodes, what the hell is going on?”

“Damn it, I knew we shouldn’t have taken this commission.” Steve curses under his breath. 

“Captain, we’re coming into the first checkpoint for the Rim,” Natasha’s voice comes over the link.

Steve grimaces. He doesn’t need this now, he nods to Bucky. They’ve known one another long enough to understand silent communication. They’ll discuss it later, Bucky will find out more, probably with Natasha’s assistance. 

“Understood,” Steve says as he taps the comm link nestled in his ear. 

Bucky only gives him a short smile that’s curved more like a frown. He’s in Winter Soldier mode now. 

Whoever the hell Tony Stark thinks he’s messing with, he’s far under prepared.


	7. Chapter 7

Approaching the Haven’s Rim ends up being easier than their arrival at Asgard. The network of settlements on the planet near the edge of humanity’s outreach into space peppers over the desolate world. It isn’t a planet like the legendary Earth, its biosphere is limited and not worthy of the human colony. The only reason humans even ventured here over a century ago had been mining rights. Several of the worlds within this system and their moons had been identified as stores for wanted minerals and resources.

Haven’s Rim isn’t one of them. The Rim worlds aren’t places of opportunities, but are places where hope forgot. Steve’s mother used to pray that God would remember them, would look this way in his grand universe and cast a kind eye to the Rim worlds. He never did. To this day, Steve tries to rectify that with the kind and loving God his mother always taught him about, he still fails. 

Steve didn’t grow up on Haven; he tries not to remember some of the places he’s seen. Haven is worse than the Boroughs’ Rim planet that Steve ran the streets on with Bucky all those years ago. The name mocks its true desperation. The Howling Commando is one of the few ships other than slave and Ring runners that even frequents the small planet. The last vestiges of the human colonies that had settled here looking for minerals and other resources has been abandoned by even the most stalwart charities and do gooders.

No one comes here anymore; the planet is for outcasts and vagrants. It is precisely the reason Steve always picks this world for their visit. He knows it plays into SHIELD’s public relations stunt, that it works well with their need to showcase that Captain America, the once hero of the people, does his duty as a citizen and SHIELD allows him to bring the desperately poor food and water. He tries to ignore that part of it, because it eats away at him. He tries to think of the greater good.

Natasha brings the Howling Commando in for a landing near the base settlement. There’s not much left of the original buildings since the waste lands of the world devastate everything in its wake. The sands and grit blow hard at the frame work and the structures crumble under the weight of disrepair and disuse. As the ship descends it sends up curls of dirt. A final vent of exhaust and Natasha closes the vessel down for the landing check over. 

She nods to Steve and he motions for the crew to start disembarking the cargo. Clint and Bucky jump to the task as Thor follows behind them. 

“Thor, I’d rather you and your brother stay inside the ship. The Grid cameras will be scouting us today, taking vids for the fed and the Rag-nets like they always do when we show up here,” Steve says and Thor stops. 

“I would be pleased to help, Captain.”

He sees Loki lurking in the galley beyond where Thor stands in the corridor. He shakes his head. “I can’t let anyone know you’re on the ship until we have a better idea what the Big Three of the Main Chamber want to do. It’s just safer that way.”

Thor bows his head. His massive form seems crumpled under the weight. Steve understands how it feels not to be able to help, to feel powerless. Thor watched his world be conquered and savaged by the Frost Giants because of their unholy union with the Dark Elves. 

“I’m sorry, Thor. For what it’s worth, you can tag all the cargo we’re sending out for the ship’s log.”

Loki appears by Thor’s side. It’s sudden and startling, and Steve doesn’t understand how he does it

“Come brother, there’s much we can do.” Loki guides Thor toward the cargo hold and Thor nods. 

For a moment, Steve wonders which brother is really in control, which brother has the upper hand. Tony steps up to Steve’s side, and says, “Do you think there’s any possibility I can look for parts here?”

Steve chuckles. “Parts of what? You won’t find anything more advanced than a hand can opener.”

When he turns to look at Tony, Steve gasps and freezes. “You cannot wear that out there.”

Tony glances down at himself and then back at Steve. “I think I look dashing.”

“You look like you’re asking for it.”

“It? And can I tell you how sexist and ignorant that is?”

Steve waves at Tony. He’s wearing traditional male Courtesan garb. His shirt is a muscle tank and the jeans are low slung. What draws Steve attention the most is the glowing disc set in the center of Tony’s chest. He also notes the jeweled chains wrapped around his hands like gloves which weaves a web of glinting silver up his arms to the disc in his chest. He has no idea what it is, but it will attract too many of the wrong kind of client in Haven.

“You cannot wear that out here.”

Tony looks down at his clothes again and shakes his head. He points to the emblem, the small medallion on a chain that Steve never even noticed. The medallion has the insignia of the Courtesan Guild and it lies in the hollow of Tony’s throat. “This is traditional, if I’m going out there to barter for parts I need to dress appropriately.”

“You dress like that you’re going to attract more than the local junk dealer, you’re going to have half the colony trying to-.”

“Trying to fuck you,” Bucky says as he joins them. “Really, Stark, that is like the stupidest idea I’ve ever seen.”

“You two are completely and utterly uneducated asses.”

Steve glares at Bucky, not wanting him to interfere yet at the same time happy for the reprieve from having to state reality directly to Tony’s face.

“Buck, can you bring out the small cargo box for Ana-Rose and Peter?”

Bucky’s expression softens and nods. “I got it.” He salutes Steve and strolls back toward the gantry and the cargo bay.

Glancing over Tony’s shoulder toward the passage to the guest quarters, Steve points and says, “Please go back and change.”

“I’m not changing, I’m bartering.”

“You are not bartering for ship parts with your body, I won’t allow it.” Steve knows how it sounds but he doesn’t care. “The ship is fine; you don’t need to buy crappy parts with your body.”

“It seems you don’t respect the profession,” Tony says as he closes in on Steve. “Tell me, Captain, are you insulting my chosen profession?”

Steve doesn’t meet Tony’s gaze. But trying to find somewhere to look in the cramped passageway becomes difficult without making it obvious. Instead he settles for concentrating on his pad, and scrolling through the logistics of the cargo drop. “Listen, I don’t think it’s right for you to do this for us. The ship is fine the way it is, and you won’t find the best parts here anyway.”

Tony studies him, close enough that it forces Steve to focus on Tony. He’s not backing down; he never backs down or surrenders. Yet, meeting Tony’s gaze is more difficult than any foe Steve has encountered, because it sears through him, asks him, plays with him, taunts him. His palms heat and warm and he wants nothing than to wipe them onto his uniform. He disregards the need and inhales sharply.

“I can’t pay you back, please don’t.” It isn’t a lie, he could never pay for the services of a Courtesan, but the idea someone to use his body that way physically curdles and twists Steve’s gut. 

He tells himself it is his moral standards, not anything else. It can’t be anything else, because there’s nothing else for it to be.

“You’re sure?” Tony says and while he can’t classify it as a challenge, he does know that Tony is weighing Steve’s reactions.

“Please, Tony, I’m providing transport for you to your sponsor. It has nothing to do with your chosen profession and everything to do with the fact I wouldn’t be able to pay you back,” Steve says and hopes it flies.

“You wouldn’t need to pay me back,” Tony says.

“And now you’re insulting me,” Steve says and knows as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s won.

Tony deflates and steps back; Steve feels colder, cooler, at a loss. “Okay, I get it.” He turns and calls. “Happy, get my jacket?”

“Sure, boss.” Happy appears in the slice of light in the hallway that leads to Tony’s quarters. “Which one, leather or linen?”

“It’s hot out there,” Steve remarks.

“Linen,” Tony says. When Happy returns with the white linen jacket and Tony slips it on, Steve relaxes, though the allure, sexuality dripping off of Tony only lessens a half of a degree – at least no one else can spot the dip of his hip bones so easily, at least no one else can chance a peek at the fine curl of hair just below Tony’s under belly. 

Steve sucks in a breath and turns away. 

“You okay, Captain?”

“Yeah, yeah, I had asthma as a kid,” Steve says as an excuse.

Tony laughs. “I thought the serum did away with all of your ailments, at least that’s what all the Net-pedia resources say.”

Steve clears his throat and half smiles at Tony. “I didn’t know anyone read any of that stuff anymore, especially about me.”

Tony lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Oh, dear Captain, some of us were fascinated by you when we were boys.” He pats Steve’s back. “Care to show me around the settlement? I’d like to get a handle on where I can look for parts.”

“I still can’t pay you back and I’d rather not-.”

“Don’t worry about it, I have good credit, even out here in the sticks,” Tony says and moves toward the gantry and the cargo hold. 

“Then why the-.” He gestures at Tony’s get-up.

Tony raises an eyebrow, and smiles again. “I couldn’t resist seeing your face, dear Captain.”

Steve bites back his reply even as his cheeks flush. He curses as Happy moves past him and snickers. Pepper follows behind him, a rueful smile on her face.

“Don’t worry about it, Captain Rogers, it just means that he likes you,” Pepper whispers and gives him the same knowing look Tony just threw at him. 

He rubs away at the furrow in his brow and straightens his shoulders, cracks his neck, and zeroes in on the work to be done. This might be a publicity event for SHIELD, something to keep the masses from rioting on the worlds closer to the Inner Belts, but to him it is as important as any commission.

He slides down the ladder to the cargo hold, strips off his jacket, and helps to move the crates from ship to the dusty landing site outside. It’s back breaking work and they don’t have any drones to do it. But it occupies his head and sweats out his frustrations. He likes the muscle burn and recalls the days spent in the gym with a punching bag. 

Right now, it is difficult to maneuver the humanitarian crates for Haven around the bulky shipping containers Stark brought on board. As Bucky, Clint, and Steve finish up carting the crates onto the plains of the landing field. The settlers stray into the area. Several of them linger on the periphery, but Steve scans the crowd. Mostly children and older people hang on the outside of the perimeter, younger and fitter inhabitants of Haven edge closer.

One in particular calls out to Steve. “Hey, you got a few buckets for us?” The young man is muscular but under nourished. Steve doesn’t say anything as he breaks open one of the cartons and throws a few boxes at the youth. He hoots and races off.

This initiates a run on him, but Steve’s prepared. It happens like this all the time. One of the settlers, usually a teenager, approaches and then when the first donation is handed off, the rest of the crowd surges forward. Natasha keeps them in their place, measuring how many can get close enough to Steve and Clint as they pass out the food containers, the bags of rice, the bottles of fresh water. It’s always Clint who helps hand out the goods. Clint understands poor down in the center of his bones like both Steve and Bucky know it.

As Steve works, Tony sidles up to him and watches the people. His expression is set, frowning, and Steve feels a pang of disappointment. Of course, the upper crust would find it disgusting, even disturbing to see these people. Their clothes are fashioned from previous deliveries, usually cast offs from the middle class, people who are trying to feel better by giving away their ill-fitting or old clothes. Most of the Haven settlers are stuck here with little opportunities, so their clothes, their main foodstuff are donations from the different Corps. 

Corps aren’t stupid, either. As a child of the Rims, Steve knows that Corps like SHIELD use this as a photo op to show how caring they are to the downcast. He makes sure the Grid vids get their footage, as do the settlers asking for handouts. Everyone knows the game; they just don’t talk about it. When he turns to check on Tony, he notices that the Courtesan is kneeling next to a little girl.

She’s only a little girl with curls that have dirt and grease in them and a tattered stuffed bear she carries around like it is her tether to the world. If she loses that bear, she might fly away on the scorching winds that come from the south. Those winds dry the nostrils and burn eyes, those winds drive the settlers insane. But she lives here because her parents lived here, but they aren’t here anymore. Many of the orphans roaming the streets of the settlement have been abandoned, left by parents. Steve prefers to think they might have gone looking for a better way to support their children. He wants that to be the story and not that they left because there was no reason to stay, not even the love for their children. She’s left in the middle of Haven on the Rim worlds where people scrape by and crawl at the dried ground, but there’s no moisture here. 

She’s in danger here, all the orphans are. She’s smart though, Steve knows she is; she keeps quiet and hides in little places where the bogeyman, who is very real cannot find Ana-Rose. Tony leans toward her, and lightly touches her blonde hair. He slides a finger near her ear and, suddenly out pops a coin. She giggles and he hands it to her. Hopping up and down with her bear firmly clutched to her chest, Ana-Rose kisses Tony’s nose and races off to show her treasure to the other children. Soon Tony is surrounded by the kids of the settlement and he has both Pepper and Happy handing out coins. When he glances up at Steve and offers him a sweet smile, Steve can only feel shame. He’d thought the worst of Tony.

Steve swallows down his guilt and his sorrow. Ana-Rose is one of the reasons; he always stops the Howling Commando on Haven. She reminds him too much of himself. Bucky clasps his shoulder, and says with a whisper, “Go on and say hello, you know how the kids like it when Captain America says hello.”

He grimaces, but he does want to check on Ana-Rose and the other children. Plus, he wants to find out about Peter and Harley. He hasn’t glimpsed them in the crowd just yet. He reaches for his jacket and flings it over his shoulder, grasping it with a hooked finger. 

As he approaches the swarm of children, Tony stands up and Ana-Rose rushes over to Steve from her place amongst the crowd. 

“Cap’n.”

“Ana-Rose. Did you get your carton today?” 

“Nah, don’t need it.” Her eyes are a particularly beautiful color of blue.

“Are you sure? We won’t be around for another few months,” Steve says while he checks her for any signs of abuse. The orphans have to fend for themselves on this wrecked world.

“Mainly, yeah, Peter’s got some good schemes goin’. You can ask ‘im.” She smiles and one of the other children tugs on her and she’s gone before Steve’s able to figure out what the heck Peter Parker is up to.

Tony frowns into the daylight; the place is a dustbowl of dirt and sand. “I don’t know why anyone ever settled this place.”

“Neither does anyone else,” Steve says. He watches as Clint continues to hand out the cartons of donated items. The older people have closed in and are specifically requesting items they might need. Steve looks toward the center of the settlement, he really wants to figure out what the hell Peter is up to, and then he turns back to Clint. “Hawk.”

“I got this, Cap.” 

“Everything?”

Clint eyes a large silver case to the side of the ship, and nods. Steve signals he caught the intended information and heads toward the town. Tony scrambles after him, telling Pepper and Happy to stay with the kids.

“Where to now?”

“I don’t think I invited you.”

“You didn’t uninvited me either.”

“I’m not sure that’s the same thing.”

Much to Steve’s discomfiture, Tony slings an arm around his shoulders and says, “I still want to see the place, surely you wouldn’t leave a Courtesan unguarded in a place like this.”

“You have a bodyguard,” Steve says and thumbs behind them to Happy who’s currently inundated with kids.

Tony peers at Happy, chuckles, and shakes his head. “Never going to hear the end of that one. Come on show me the place and I can find out if there’s any parts to buy for the ship that I can retrofit.”

“You should probably ask Bruce about that, since he’s the engineer on the Commando.”

“He’s something but he’s not an engineer,” Tony says as they continue to walk into the thick of the settlement. 

It really is just a settlement, though it is probably as old as the Boroughs. There are tents and shacks set up around a dirt road. Several of the tents are surrounded by wagons with wares placed on them. 

Steve points in the direction of the closest junk dealer. “You might be able to find what you are looking for down that way. May’s the most honest, and she’s probably got the best selection.” He thinks for a second that Tony might wander away, and part of him is relieved but the larger part, the stronger part is terrified. “I’ll go with you, once I check out where Peter is.”

“Who’s Peter, your kid?” Tony asks and he’s released Steve to play with his little pad and that thing he calls Jarvis. Steve notices that in addition to the handheld, Tony also has something attached to the palm of his hand. He shrugs it off, probably something to do with Courtesan business anyway. 

“Peter is not my kid. I don’t have any children.” 

Tony turns around and walks backward as they continue toward Steve’s destination. “Oh, Captain, I think you have a boatload of kids.” He smiles that daring grin and clicks once then spins around to continue their journey through the streets.

“This way,” Steve says and wonders why the hell he let Stark come along anyway. As they cross over to a side street, Tony whistles and scowls at the state of the place. It isn’t pretty, the people, the structures. Everything is rundown, filled with grit and dirt. He’s never been sure how anyone makes a living here. Most are trying to find ways off this rock, even if it means a trip to one of the other Rim worlds. 

Steve steps up to one of the few buildings in the makeshift town that might be considered the center of commerce. There are several brick and mortar buildings with some resemblance to a real town. He swings open the door and ducks inside, Tony on his tail. They enter into the main bar of the settlement. It’s dark since the building is made out of slabs of concrete with only small oval holes for windows. A lamp hanging from the ceiling provides a pitiful amount of light. Steve walks up to the bar, the place is nearly empty. There’s a few men hunched over a table in the corner playing a card game but otherwise the place isn’t occupied.

Rapping on the stone bar scrapes his knuckles, but it also alerts the barkeeper of his presence.

“Captain!” The man appears from the backroom. As he closes in on them, the first thing that impresses Steve is his stench. Generally people on Haven stink, but he’s especially ripe. 

“Marv, how’ve you been?”

Tony coughs a little as the man picks up a few glasses to place them on the bar. 

“Been good, good. How about you?”

“Good enough, two whiskeys please.” He tosses a few coins on the bar. As the man pours their drinks, Steve asks. “Have you seen Peter?”

“Parker?” The man with only a bit of hair and a large pot belly scrubs at his thick mustache and says, “He’s been down by the dump a lot. Been working it like a junk yard. Outselling Gobby. Gonna get himself in real trouble.”

He drinks down the whiskey in one gulp, thanks Marv, and waits for Tony to finish his drink. Tony doesn’t touch it. He’s concentrating his attention on the men in the corner. One of them has taken an interest in them. Steve turns and frowns. 

Steve grabs Tony’s arm and steers him out the door. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Gobby is the local junk dealer and all around jerk. He owns the town like he thinks he’s some kind of dictator or something.”

“What the hell kind of name is Gobby?” Tony says.

“Lots of the locals call him that, short for Goblin. Not sure why. He has a tendency to be especially mean to the kids.” 

“He’s the junk dealer you want me to barter with?” Tony asks.

“No, of course, not. I was directing you to Aunt May. She’s pretty nice and takes care of the kids. She also makes her money as mainly as a dealer, though that’s not her front. Gobby is always out to get her.”

“Christ, it’s a fucking shit house, is what it is.” Tony scowls. “Even people who have nothing try and fuck each other over.”

“Let’s go over to Aunt May’s. She might be able to help us out,” Steve says and leads them down a small alley way to another clump of tents and shacks. “I went to the bar to hear the real story on Peter. May never has an idea about the kids. She’s old and needs a hand.”

“Why don’t we just go to the dump where stinky Marv back there told us Peter hangs out? And, can I say, that man is a literal weapon of mass destruction with his body odor?” Tony waves his hand in front of his face and Steve bites his tongue. 

“This way,” Steve says. He directs them to a small shack that is well appointed, with a tiny sign calling it the _Tea Kettle House_. 

“Tea Kettle, are you screwing with me?”

“Even in the darkest places, there are dreams.” Steve shrugs. “Aunt May likes tea. She always wanted to have a little café that offered different teas. She makes most of her money on trading for parts, but this is what her dream is.” He knocks on the door and opens it at the same time. A tiny silver bell rings. An older woman immediately swoops out of the back room and has Steve in her arms before he can even react. 

“Captain, come in, come in.” She eyes Tony, catches sight of his medallion, and waves for him to enter as well. “I didn’t realize you sponsored a Courtesan.”

Steve feels his face color and he mumbles, “No, no, May I – no.”

“Captain Rogers is a doll as a sponsor. Just as sweet as can be, but a real tiger, when he wants to be – if you know what I mean.”

The older woman clucks a few times and slaps Steve’s arm when he tries to deny it. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetie. Back in my day, well we did what we could to pay the bills. It’s nice though that the Guild has really made the profession so respectable.”

Steve thinks he wants to dig a hole and crawl into it as Tony agrees. “It’s so much easier these days, what with the Guild and the new laws that really protect the rights of the Courtesan. The sponsor has to go through so many checkpoints and counter reviews. Just a pleasure to really be in the profession. And Steve here, Steve, well everyone wanted Captain America. The fact that he picked me, well, puts a real bounce in my step – in more ways than one.”

May laughs and claps a few times. “Oh boys, let me get you some tea. Come, come, sit, sit.” She ushers them over to one of the small tables with handmade tablecloths and mismatched chairs. 

As she toddles off, Steve whips around and faces Tony. “What the hell was that?”

“What? She enjoyed the story, and you get to look like a bigwig who can afford a Courtesan.”

“You- I- bounce- for Pete’s sake, Tony, this isn’t funny.”

“Of course it is, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that,” Steve says and just as he turns, Tony grabs him, cups his face in his hands, and presses his lips against Steve’s mouth. In the distance, Steve hears a startled exclaim from Aunt May, but it feels like she’s kilometers away. The kiss muffles everything, because Steve falls into it. He shouldn’t, he doesn’t know what game Tony is playing at, but he knows, knows in that instant that he’s fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Willingly. The moment he saw Tony Stark, that first moment, his breath was taken away, stolen from his very lungs. He hates to be so overtaken by the barest thing, by the superficial thing. But the fact of the matter is Tony is anything but superficial. The Rag-nets may gossip and twerp about his perchance for performance and showmanship, but the fact of the matter is, Steve saw Tony save his ship, witnessed Tony charm poor indigent children and then gift them with more money than they might see in a year. 

This kiss, this touch of lips upon lips means the world to Steve and so he drops into it gracelessly. He places his hands on Tony’s, meaning to push him away, but his body is unwilling and his mind is a swoon of devotion and want and lust. He feels ashamed and urgent at the same time. He begs for entrance and with a growing moan, Tony allows it. It is everything to be desired and more than that to be cherished. And all along, all through it, he realizes this is the forbidden fruit, this is something he cannot have. Tony is something Steve can never have. It is this that pulls him apart from Tony; it is this horrible thought that tears him away.

“Oh my, my, my,” May says and jitters about the small living space. “Sit, sit, will you two just sit.”

Steve nods but he’s not sure he actually moves until he feels the ratty cushion beneath his knees. He hears Tony speaking, carrying the conversation as Aunt May – maybe they’re discussing bartering for parts, maybe they are talking about how May is the aunt to all the lost children of Haven, or maybe she just pours the tea and offers them dry biscuits. Before Steve can respond, May has disappeared again, telling them she’ll see what she can do for the parts, and then Tony pats Steve’s hand. 

He feels like he’s moving underwater, hearing everything muted and waterlogged. He forces his attention to Tony.

“Why?” Steve asks. “Why would you do that?” It feels cruel and cutting for Tony to play that way, to touch him, and offer him the danger of desire. 

“Because I wanted to, and Tony Stark does whatever the hell he wants to,” Tony responds and smiles. “Besides, it’s a good cover and she liked it. She’s fond of you, likes to think of you succeeding, getting the good things in life. Part of my trade is reading people; I need her to trust me so I can get the right parts for your ship.”

“She trusts me; you didn’t need to do that.” He suspects Tony is overselling it, he knows he didn’t need to do it, so it becomes a question of why he would. Steve is acutely aware that instead of selling himself for the parts, Tony used Steve to do a similar trade. Showing May that Tony was Steve’s is somewhat akin to selling himself – isn’t it? It makes Steve’s head spin. 

Steve shakes himself aware, and then changes tactics, “No, why, why did you pick me? Why did you pick my ship?” He has to ask, because at this moment, very suddenly, everything seems clear to him. Everything is crystalline and he’s hyperaware. Tony will be the ruin of him; he knows this now like he understands tactics and strategy.

“Because you’re you, Captain, I thought that was self-evident.”

“I don’t think I did my homework,” Steve says.

“Whoever does, except for me, of course?” Tony lifts Steve’s hand to his mouth and kisses it lightly. “You’re a kid from the Boroughs, and you went to war to save an ideal. You ended up giving your life for that ideal, an ideal that’s all but dead today. You still believe in it, Captain, everyone can see it. Even with your taciturn moods and your stand offishness, everyone can see that you’re still trying to save us all – or at least a few lost souls here and there.” 

“Why is that so important to you, all you want is a ride, right?” For some reason he wants Tony to confirm that it’s just a game, he doesn’t want to know that beneath that light in his chest resides a courageous heart, that he wants something different for humanity. If he has to believe that Tony is something more than a Courtesan, his world shatters. 

Tony grins and there’s a glint in his eyes that should warn Steve. “You are a dangerous man, Captain.”

“I think you have me mixed up with someone else, Sir Stark, I’m just a kid from the Rims.”

Tony smiles and drops Steve’s hand. “You’re delightful. Which Borough did you grow up on?”

The change in topic jolts Steve, but he accepts it, because at least he can focus on something else, instead of the yearning currently twisting itself tight in his belly and the want constricting his pants. “I grew up in the Brook Lines Borough Rim world. My ma was a nurse, but didn’t matter she still ended up dying pretty young.”

“And your dad?”

“Died in the skirmishes before the first space war. Everyone always calls them just a few police actions, but everyone knows they were wars.” Steve shrugs. “Once Ma died, I went to a home, you know, one of those orphanages that were run by the Sisters. It wasn’t bad, Bucky was there with me.”

Aunt May serves them some biscuits and asks Tony about the parts again. He draws his attention specifically to her, and the delight he shows causes her to melt – Steve can see the allure, the way Tony weaves a spell to make everyone feel special. She loiters again, patting Steve on the shoulder and when he gets up to refresh his tea, she shushes him and goes to do it herself.

Tony jumps back into their conversation as if May hadn’t just interrupted them for fifteen minutes. “The Winter Soldier, yes, I heard even when SHIELD wanted to bring him in, essentially assassinate the ultimate assassin, you changed the game. You see the good in everyone, Captain,” Tony says and picks up the teacup. It isn’t something fancy but Steve is sure Aunt May probably thinks they are precious, even with the chips and dulled painted flowers. 

He lowers his eyes. He still doesn’t understand it. “That doesn’t answer my question, why my ship?”

Tony fingers the circular disc he has laced onto his palm. Steve’s never seen the kind of jewelry before, but he doesn’t run in the same circles as the Elite Class. As Steve raises his eyes, Tony says, “I learned a lot of things when I was kidnapped by the Ten Rings, Captain. One of them happens to be that trust is not something you can throw around easily. Even people closest aren’t worth your trust just because they’ve been there for years.”

“I still don’t-.” Tony’s words ring in Steve’s head, that Stane wanted him dead. “If there are people, if there’s someone trying to hurt you Tony, you could go to the authorities.”

Tony smiles. “Not if the authorities are in on the game, Captain. Corporations rule just about everything, even the police.”

At that moment, May rushes back into the room. “Captain, Captain. You have to help. I knew it. I told Peter not to go there. We can get the parts legal like and he goes and does this. I knew it. I knew it. It was too dangerous.”

Steve’s on his feet in seconds as is Tony. The door bursts open and Clint charges in. “We got trouble Cap.”

He divides his attention between his navigator and Aunt May. “What is it?”

“Hammer drones, come on a sweep.”

“They’re taking the children,” Aunt May cries, her hands over her mouth in horror.

“What? Hammer is doing what?”

Steve grabs hold of Tony’s arm and shoves him toward Clint. “Get back to the ship.”

“The hell I will,” Tony says and Steve would argue, he would but he doesn’t have time. When a drone ship comes through and does a slave sweep there’s only minutes before people are whisked away like cattle to the slaughter. 

May hangs on his shoulder, her expression determined but laced with fear. “You’ll do something, Captain? You’ll get my kids?”

He shares a glance with Clint, and gives a short nod to the woman. “Let’s go, Hawk, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Clint flies out the door with Steve at his heels. Turning to look over his shoulder, he yells to Tony, “Stay here or get back to the ship.”

Tony sneers at him and follows. Steve wants to toss him back into the house, throw him toward the ship, but he can hear the great roar of the drone ship, the Hammer drones will be landing in seconds. The kids don’t have a prayer if he doesn’t get there to help out. People scatter along the streets, tents collapse as they conceal themselves. 

Steve wants to stop, to throttle Tony, because Tony is his charge, his responsibility. If anything happens to Tony it will go very badly for them. With the last mission a complete disaster, they already have a huge red mark on their ledger. The Council of Corps, the Big Three – it could even go all the way up to the Main Chamber - will never forget and forgive them for losing their cargo – but it was Clint’s call and Steve still stands by it. They saved a ship of refugees. 

He has to weigh the importance, what is more important. He hisses, grabs for Tony, and drags him along. “Don’t get in the way and make sure your ass doesn’t get shot.”

“Oh, Captain, my ass is not getting shot. Not anytime soon, sweetie.” Tony winks at him, actually winks while Steve’s calling over to Hawkeye.

“Do you have it?” 

Clint angles them to the side and he retrieves something he must have stowed right before going to Aunt May’s residence. He pulls out his bow with quiver and then flings the shield at Steve. He catches it and wishes he’d put on his gloves. The slice of the edge of the shield hurts like hell. Ignoring the sting, he waits for Clint to direct them.

“The kids are down by the dump.”

“The dump?” Tony says.

“Get a lot of stuff to trade down there,” Clint says with a shrug. Steve doesn’t say anything, he recalls Clint’s past, and he understands that Clint knows because he’s intimately aware of what it means to scrape by.

“Let’s go then,” Steve says and they take off toward the edge of the settlement to the garbage dump. Without having to say a word, Steve telegraphs his desire to keep Tony between them and, therefore safe, to Clint. Luckily, Clint lives up to his name and sees the intense stare and nods in agreement. He switches positions with Tony as they veer toward the dump.

Even as they close in on the scrapyard, the drone ship descends from the sky. Its massive belly darkens the sky and blots out the light. As they approach the crest of the hill to where the dump lies near the outskirts of the settlement, the robot drones are dropping like flies from the ship zooming along the peak of the hill toward the valley of the dump.

They don’t have much time. Steve doesn’t have a choice. “Watch him,” he screams as he leaps down the hill.

Over his head he feels the wind of arrows loosed from Clint’s bow. He knows nearly all of them will impact with their targets. The arrows aren’t ordinary armor piercing tips, but explosive ones and the drones take fire and some explode as Steve reaches the pit of the dump. The children disperse in all directions and Steve yells over the cacophony of noises from the roar of the ship to the burst of arrow tip bombs as they hit their targets.

“Over here, over here,” he orders as he waves the children toward him and a small dip in the pit. He has to hide them until he can find a safe passage out of the dump. A series of shots fired from the robot drone send a barrage of scrap metal flying and the children scream. He spots Ana-Rose and finally sees Ian and Harley as well as Peter. Peter is the oldest of them and he tries to round them up as some of the younger ones stumble and fall over the uneven pathway. 

Not able to stand and wait, Steve races to their side, feeling the slight give of his ankle as the junk falls away under his footfalls. He ignores it, the sting of pain as it shoots up his leg. A minor sprain – he knows the serum will take care of it. The drone ship blares a siren and guns appear aimed at Steve as he secures the little crowd of children – some he doesn’t know. Scanning the area, he looks for a way out of the pit and a safe haven – but there is none. The drone ship hovers over the valley like it might cap it and close in on them. The drones keep exiting the ship like a plague of flies. 

Without a weapon, Steve hustles the children into a small ditch and shoves the shield over to the hole. He doesn’t have enough time to clear them out as the ship nears and the mass of robot drones blast their way through the dump setting in on fire. Having no other choice, he pushes the last of the children, Peter, into the hole and throws his own body over them. He uses the shield to protect them where his body cannot. He feels the heat of the attack against his back and hopes that Hawkeye can get a round of suppressive fire to stop the ship and the robots long enough that Steve with the children in tow can rush to freedom. 

Over the hum of the ship’s engine and the discharge of the robots, he hears Hawkeye yelling – he can’t stop them. He’s trapped on the other side of the invasion line of robots. Steve has no choice but to face them and leave the children unprotected. As he goes to instruct Peter to protect the children with his shield, he feels the first shot hit his back, and then a volley of shots hit him and he grimaces.

“Cap? Cap? What is it? What should I do?” Peter grips his shoulder and Steve inhales as the piercing flame of pain spreads hot and wide over his back. It hurts like a thousand insect stings, he knows it’s not to kill, just to debilitate so that the robots can haul their loot back to the ship, but the number of the barbed bullets implanted in his back overwhelms him. Normally, one or two are aimed at a subject, not the two dozen or more lodged in his flesh. 

“Take the shield, get to-.” His breathing hitches in his throat and he fights to keep conscious. Another burst of fire hits him and he grunts and falls forward. Peter’s hand is on his shoulder, trying to hold him, trying to support him. The pain of the drugged barbs sizzles through his nerves and he grits his teeth, forcing his mind to focus. He needs to remember what he was going to tell Peter. The children. Safety. Formulating the words is impossible. 

Weakly he pushes at Peter. “Go.” He thinks he says it but Peter only looks more confused as the robots close in and the ship is directly overhead. Steve’s vision funnels into a narrow blackened field. 

As the world darkens and he struggles to stay alert a flare of brilliant white light explodes to his right. He groans and looks over his shoulder to the source thinking the children are in even more danger than he originally believed. He gasps out a breath and it hurts sending spears of agony through his nerves, yet he cannot rectify what he’s seeing with reality. He moves through the pain, fighting against it, knowing the super soldier serum will save him. But it isn't fast enough, he's falling and the world loops and spirals downward as he tries to rectify reality and what he is seeing before him. 

Tony, the most sought after Courtesan of the Guild, stands on the ridge with his palms up, open, and flashing an arc of light from each hand in rapid succession. The robots disperse as parts erupt from them in a spray of fire. The drone ship isn’t left alone. Tony targets it and knows precisely where to hit it. The engine sparks and the ship protests, whirling with flames from its side. 

Steve grapples to stand, to gather the children, but the poison is too much for his system to handle immediately. It will handle it, eventually, but it debilitates and disables him. He drops, collapsing into darkness as Tony turns to meet his gaze.


	8. Chapter 8

When he finds his way to consciousness the first thing he hears is Clint’s voice droning on about the Hammer slaver ship and what happened. He’s vaguely aware that he’s been answering, half conscious, and that he’s lying on a soft mattress, someplace much nicer than the junkyard, and softer than the cot in their makeshift medical bay on the Howling Commando. 

“Lucky for us, Stark is some mean son of a bitch, just about blew Hammer’s fucking robots out of the sky,” Clint says as Steve lifts his heavy lids. 

He’s propped on his side with something cool against his back; it feels like a dream and he wants to just sigh and close his eyes again. 

“We still got a problem, though,” Clint says and Bruce comes into view. 

“The ship took a lot of damage when we launched. Hammer Corp was not happy, they pursued,” Bruce says and he crosses his arms over his chest in a self-hug that signifies he’s attempting to control his anger, his emotions.

Steve shifts in the bed, vaguely recognizing the guest quarters of the ship. He needs to sit up, to deal with the mess that is his life right now. Checking on the ship, his crew, his family becomes top priority. He places a hand on the bed and pushes, but Bruce holds him down with a light pressure to his shoulder. 

“No, stay, you’re still recovering from the poison in those barbs. It took Bucky three hours to pluck all of them out of your back. Don’t know what the hell Hammer was thinking, those barbs would have killed a kid if more than one had hit.” Bruce releases him when he falls back onto the bed. 

“What? What happened again?” He wants to take charge yet at the same time he needs to slip soundlessly back to sleep. 

“I told you he was still out of it,” Bruce hisses at Clint and Steve can tell just by the tension in the room the two of them are at each other’s throat. Over Steve.

“Just tell me again, I’m injured, be nice,” Steve says.

“Stark’s got some weird ass repulsor technology or that’s what he says it is. That jewelry he has wired to his hands, that’s it. Lasers or some shit ass stuff comes out of it and blows crap up,” Clint says. He’s practically giddy over it.

“Bruce?” Steve says and he only has one eye open, checking out his team mate, because the other eye is buried in the pillow. He can’t help but smell Tony’s cologne on the sheets.

“Once he hit the drones with the repulsors, we were able to get out of there in the confusion,” Clint says. “I linked ahead and Natasha with Bucky was able to ready the ship. We took off in shortly after getting out of there.”

“The kids?” Steve asks.

“Stark again,” Clint says and it’s Bruce who elaborates this time.

“Happy stayed behind on Stark’s request.”

This time Steve moves regardless of Bruce’s warning. “What? That’s not right; the kids are still in danger.” The flesh on his back protests; and any stretch causes hot pain to amplify through his nerves. 

“I don’t think so,” Tony pushes into the room and now there’s really not enough area for everyone to stand very comfortably and not be in one another’s person space. “Happy’s staying behind and will escort the kids and Aunt May off that craptastic planet and settle them over near Parson’s Point, in the Outer Belt area. It’s nice, lots of new settlers and good location.”

“You sound like your selling plots,” Clint says with a raised brow.

“Stark Corp owns quite a bit of Parson’s, they’ll be safe there. Once Happy’s done with his assignment, he’ll join up with us in the Inner Belts.” Tony smiles. He’s proud of himself and he’s glowing with it.

“How are they going to get off of Haven?” Steve says and he really needs to lie back down. The small quarters is stifling and the light keeps darkening.

Bruce lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder again as Clint steps out of the way. “Lie back, Captain, you’re still recovering.” 

“We’ll tell you all the good stuff when you wake up again,” Tony promises and Steve nods. He smiles as Tony winks at him. Closing his eyes, he wonders why he wants Tony to stay with him as he sleeps.

The next time he surfaces he hears a soft voice speaking against his shoulder. 

“Come on Sleeping Beauty, are you going to make me wait forever?”

He smiles because the tone is inviting and lulling, like a song to his ears. He wishes the person would say more, and he turns over on the bed, and opens his eyes to find Tony lying next to him, his body lined against Steve’s.

“Oh, oh,” Steve says and jumps up to his feet. “I’m sorry, what am I-.” Then it rushes back to him, the incident on Haven, the battle against the slaver drones, and the eventual injury. He doesn’t even know how he got back to the ship or why he’s in Tony’s quarters. Steve is only wearing his pants.

Tony slips to the edge of the bed, and he’s wearing only a light silk tunic that might be long enough to cover mid-thigh if he stood up. Steve doesn’t want to test the theory and puts his hands up to tell him to stay where he is.

“I shouldn’t be here. I’ll just-.” He points to the portal.

“Captain, my captain, cool your jets. Take a load off, sit down. You were injured, though I can see that super serum really lives up to its name.” He waves at Steve to indicate the freshly healed tissue, though to Steve it still feels tight. “I offered my quarters so you could get your rest, but I didn’t realize how long you would need to sleep. Thirty hours is pretty long for anyone. And at some point, I did want to sleep - so hope you don't mind.”

"No, no?" But what else could he say? Steve rubs at his eyes, and then what Tony said hits him. “Damn it, I’ve been out of it for over a day?”

Tony stands up and Steve relaxes when he sees the tunic is long enough to cover him. As he bends to pick up his discarded pants, though, Steve glimpses the slight curve of his ass and turns around. Tony doesn’t miss a beat. “You missed all kinds of great stuff, the getaway, the sweet moments of Happy getting to be the kiddoes savior, the launch, and oh, the dog fight. That was good, Clint is really a great asset to the team, but he’s a shithead, too. Don’t tell him I complimented him.”

“What? What are you talking about? A dog fight? What dogs?” Steve searches around the confined space looking for his shirt or jacket. He fails to locate it. 

“Oh, no, no dogs. Just a honest to goodness space fight. Just about as good as the one when we approached Asgard. I have to say when I booked this boat I didn’t expect so much entertainment along the way,” Tony says as he steps into his pants. Once he’s buttoned up, he tugs off his tunic and pulls out a black tank top. 

“A fight? With who, did we take on any damage?” Steve says. He really needs to find a damned shirt.

“Damage? Yeah, quite a bit. I have to get down to engineering-.” Tony is standing here with that glowing thing in his chest as he rights his shirt.

“You are not going to engineering. You’re a passenger.”

Tony slips the shirt over his head and smiles. “You’re cute, I like adorable and cute and smart. Ask Pepper.”

“What the hell happened while I was out,” Steve says as Tony edges past him to the door. 

Tony pops up on his toes, kisses the tip of Steve’s nose, and clicks once at him before he says, “Don’t worry, Cap, I don’t kiss and tell.” 

Before Steve can say anything, Tony’s out the door and scrambling down the passageway toward the Engine room. Steve curses and leaves the room, peering back only once to think about how Tony had been nestled up against him, sleeping pressed near him. He blinks away the images but the feeling resides like an ever present need lurking behind him. He hurries away, and goes to the crew quarters, to the rack he’s called his own during this trip. Searching through his small locker, he retrieves a shirt and pulls it on.

“The man of the hour.”

Steve looks up to see Bucky hanging at the side of the bunks. Sitting on the lower rack, he puts on socks and wonders where the hell his boots are. 

“Have a good sleep?”

“Shut up,” Steve says and searches around under the bunk for his boots. “Where the hell are my boots?”

“Probably back at Stark’s quarters. Must have been cozy in there last night,” Bucky says with his arms crossed and that glare in his eye.

Steve straightens and says, “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Yeah, I can,” Clint says as he appears in the door portal. He hangs there as he explains, “We got off the planet, the kids are being transported by a ship called by the mighty Tony Stark. Not sure where they’re going, but them and Aunt May’ll be safe. Us, not so sure.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, while you were napping,” Bucky chimes in. “We launched, and took serious fire from the another Hammer slave ship that was hanging in orbit around Haven. Hawk did what he could to fight them off. I tried as well, but the sniper port sucks.”

“Without a lot of power to make the hyper jump, it failed.” Clint swings into the quarters and sits on one of the bunks across from Steve.

“Failed? Holy-.”

“Don’t get all freaked, we didn’t get lost or nothing,” Clint says. “But we didn’t complete the jump and our closest destination to clean up the old bucket is the Blessed Station.”

“Damn it, that’s the sex slave station, we won’t get much help there,” Steve says. 

“Stark thinks he can get the parts we need to fix her up,” Bucky says as he rolls the unlit cigarette between his fingers of his metal hand.

Steve balances his elbows on his knees and covers his face with his hands. After taking a few deep breathes, he looks up at his team mates. “Tony can’t leave the damned ship while we dock there. You know what sex slavers think of Courtesans, of the Guild.”

“Yeah, well, he’s really the only hope we got,” Clint says. “Bruce is pretty sure he can’t fix the damage without Stark’s help.”

“Since when is Tony the ship’s engineer?” Steve asks.

His question is answer when Tony strolls into the room. “Because you have a scientist for an engineer as well as a medical doctor which bodes poorly if anyone but you gets hurt on this ship. I know what I’m doing. The damage you took is far too extensive to just paste it together with some tape and spit.”

“I don’t spit on the engine parts,” Bruce calls from the passageway. If anyone else comes into the crew quarters, Steve is going to have to find out who the hell is taking care of the ship.

“Same thing as wishes,” Tony calls over his shoulder and then turns back to the team. “Listen, I’m not trying to step on toes here, but this, the Howling Commando, is about ready for the junkyard. If you don’t let me fix her, not only are you going to be stuck making jumps that will mean it might be three life times before we get to the Inner Belts, but you are also facing SHIELD decommissioning her, and what will that do to your little band of merry men, Robin Hood?”

Steve lowers his eyes, and the tight feel of his newly healed skin wraps him constricting him. 

He studies them each, and then stands up to shove his way to the door. “Come with me.”

Tony smirks at the rest of the crew but Steve ignores him and leads the way back to Tony’s quarters since there is nowhere else on the ship for any sort of privacy. 

When they are safely in the guest quarters, Steve turns on his heel and says, “First, let me thank you for sending your personal body guard to protect the children and to provide safe transport for them off of Haven.”

“No problem, Happy loves being a hero.” Tony waves it off like he might brush dust from the shoulder of a suit. 

“It means a lot to me, to the rest of the crew, so thank you.”

Tony bows his head and smiles. “You’re welcome, Captain.”

“Second, thank you for interceding during the firefight. I’m not sure the children would have been saved without it.”

Again, Tony bows his head and smiles. Steve has a sneaking suspicion that the reaction has been ingrained in him by the Guild.

“Third, did you have any hand in what happened?”

Tony frowns, his brows wrinkled and his eyes searching. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

“We’re sitting outside of the Blessed Station, a Way Station known for its market in sex slaves. Why the hell are we here?”

“Don’t ask me, ask your bird boy back there,” Tony says.

“You’re sure; this isn’t some kind of weird thing with Guild members, right?”

Tony snorts a little and grins. “Weird thing? What the hell is going on in your head? I’m a Courtesan not a god damned ass.” His eyes go sharp on Steve, and there’s an angry streak through his expression as all levity fades. “I wouldn’t prance around in front of slaves, especially not sex slaves. I might be from the Elite Class – capital letters there by the way- but I have a brain and I have a soul, it might be damned, but fuck you for thinking I would denigrate another human being.”

“I didn’t say-,” Steve bites back his words and pinches the bridge of his nose. He slept for over thirty hours, and had been injured; it means he hasn’t eaten enough. His brain feels fuzzy with hunger and there’s a dull ache in his chest like the hunger and the injury echoes in the hollow of his lungs. He looks back at Tony and says, “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t think. That’s not what I intended.”

“I thought better of you, Captain, I thought that I might find someone that would actually respect me regardless of who I am or what I chose to be.” Tony seethes with energy; it pops off of him like crackles of lightning. 

Steve heats and feels it flush on his face, to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I should have been more sympathetic.” He feels the ache in his lungs again and it amplifies so much so that he nearly gulps for air. 

Tony narrows his eyes and considers him, almost studying him like a lab rat. Steve wonders if he’ll just leave, if he’ll just walk away. Instead, he says, “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Oh God, yes,” Steve says, and he knows he should mask the gratitude but just the thought of eating and forgetting his asinine accusation transfers that blush to a warmth spreading deep in his chest. 

Tony’s expression relaxes and he smiles at Steve, and Steve thinks a little part of him releases. “Then let’s go.”

To see Tony smile at him feels like a reward and he wants to deny it, but the truth is never something he ignores.

They find their way back to the galley and a ruckus gathering greets them as they enter the kitchen and eating area. Thor and his brother, Loki, are at the kitchen counter. Thor directs Bucky in a complicated recipe as Loki leans against the counter, criticizing their meager accomplishments. Bruce shakes his head as Steve and Tony join them.

“I hope you weren’t looking to have anything edible,” Bruce says.

“At this point, I’ll take anything,” Steve says and goes to the refrigerator to paw through it for food. He picks out a container and opens it. As he stands to the side and watches, Steve crunches on some raw vegetables. He’s not sure what they are since they pick up foodstuffs along the ride and always find a variety of native items he’s never seen before. It’s always a crap shoot whether or not it is edible or even tastes good. With his enhanced metabolism, he accepts anything he can get his hands on these days. The crew understands his need for increased calories, especially after an injury. No one bats an eye as he eats. 

“I fear that the ingredients will fail to showcase the delicious and savory cuisine of our beloved home, Asgard,” Thor says as he stirs a pot on the stove. Loki ruffles at Thor’s declaration but slouches in the corner not speaking.

“Considering how fucking complicated this recipe is, I don’t think anyone will notice the difference,” Bucky replies but he hunches over the pots and Steve chuckles. He’ll have to get the story how Thor convinced Bucky to do the cooking tonight. Most of the time, Bucky hides out until the meal is cooked, slinks in, steals food and makes away again. 

Steve watches the crew putter around as they wait for the dinner. Bruce disappears at some point, probably to attend the engine repairs. Eventually everyone’s huddled around the table. Bucky sits on the counter, and Thor settles down on something that looks like a huge hammer on its side. Steve’s seen him drag it around the ship like some kind of security blanket. 

Natasha appears and Pepper shifts over so that they can share part of a chair. Steve hangs back, doesn’t take a seat at the table but sits on the bench near the wall and observes. Tony takes a seat near Pepper and he starts an animated discussion with her and Natasha. He can tell Natasha’s measuring him, testing him, checking Tony out. They all want to figure out why Tony Stark booked their ship. 

Steve ladles out some of the stew, tastes it, and ladles some more out. It isn’t bad, considering Bucky made it. “Not bad.”

“Thought I kind of did a great job,” Bucky says with a nod.

“You did admirably considering the significantly low quality of fare to employ.”

“Considering Bucky nearly killed the both of us with his version of stew when we were kids, I’d say this is a great improvement,” Steve says.

“Wait,” Tony says and the undercurrent of chatter stops. “Wait, wait, you two knew each other?”

“We grew up together out in the Rims,” Bucky says in between a slurp of stew.

“I thought everyone knew that.” Steve shrugs.

“How is that even possible?” Pepper says. “I thought you were like a hundred plus years old.” 

Steve grins and shakes his head. “So is Bucky. He -.” But the words don’t come because, even after all the years, it still hurts to think about losing Bucky.

“I’m a clone,” Bucky says. 

“Human cloning is illegal,” Tony says. 

“Legal status never stopped anything. Look at the Rings, they sell that stuff to the fucking bigwigs and no one ever says anything about it.” 

Steve finishes up his bowl and sets it in the sink. “He’s not a clone, and, Clint, it’s your turn to clean up. I better not find the decon washer full again.” Clint only scowls in response.

He noticed earlier that Bruce wasn’t joining them so he leaves to search out his wayward engineer. As he leaves he hears Tony throw out different scenarios to explain the fact that Bucky grew up with Steve, all those many years ago. 

He climbs down the back ladder to the Engine Room. When he enters it, he hears banging and cursing. “Bruce?”

“The fucking damn, this fucking ship is a piece of crap.”

“Whoa, there,” Steve says as he rounds the main girth of the engine and finds Bruce with a hammer banging on a pulled interface with abandoned. Rushing to his side, he grabs hold of the man’s arm and stops him. It takes a bit more force as Bruce fights to gain some control. Whether it is control of himself, the anger, or overcome Steve, he does not know. “What are you doing? You’ll ruin the computer interface that way.”

Bruce yanks away from Steve, pulls on his shirt, and rotates his shoulders. “I just, the damn thing. Nothing fucking works like it’s supposed to on this ship. I can’t-.”

Steve raises his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “I get that it’s not the easiest-.”

“Not the easiest? Steve, have you taken a look at this bucket. She’s falling apart. I can barely keep her together. You shouldn’t ha-.” He paces around and scrubs hands through his knotted curls. “This – this is not me. I am not an engineer. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Don’t say that, you’ve done great in the past. You’ve keep her in space and us alive.”

“The damage she took is too extensive. I don’t think I can actually get it fixed this time. I know some engineering, and I can wing it other times, but not this. This requires extensive understanding of advanced dimensionality.”

Steve cringes because there’s not much he can say. He’s not a mechanic, he’s a strategist, a tactician. “You do a fine job. You can figure it out.” It’s all he can muster at this point. He knows that Bruce isn’t an engineer; he’s not even a medical doctor. Steve agreed to take him on the Howling Commando because no one else would at SHIELD or the Feds. He’d have ended up on a Debtor’s Moon. No one wanted a half insane scientist who happened to be vulnerable to fits of rage. He agreed to take him off of Fury’s hands, to allow him to work off his debt as the engineer. 

“I can’t fix it. It’s too extensive.” Bruce wilts against the bulkhead. 

Stepping up to the interface, Steve sees the charred circuits. It smells and looks like it’ll never run again. If they don’t have the interface, they can’t make the jumps to hyper dimensional space. They’ll essentially be stuck at the sex slavers’ station. This is not good, not good at all.

“We could ask him, you know,” Bruce mumbles.

“Hmm?” Steve really isn’t listening, because all he’s seeing is trying to barter his way off the station and then having to own up to the Feds and SHIELD, dealing with the debt that losing a ship. His brain freezes on that one.

“Steve, we could ask Stark.”

He slaps the side wall and nods. “Go, go get him.” He hates to do this, it is against protocol and it feels wrong. But they have no other choice.

Not only does Tony appear with Bruce but they bring an entourage of Thor, Loki, Pepper, and Bucky. Clint must be cleaning up and Natasha is probably checking the cockpit.

Steve sighs, such is his life. 

“What can I do ya for, Cap?”

“We took damage to the engines, especially the hyper drive interface. Can you fix it?” Steve steps aside so that Tony can examine the wrecked panel. Tony already knows they took damage. At least, he’s not acting smug at this point.

Leaning over the clear circuited panel, Tony slips off the ridiculous sunglasses he’s currently wearing and slides them into the collar of the tank top. They pull down the shirt enough so that Steve can see the round glowing implant in the center of Tony’s chest. He peers at it; it has a faint bluish tinge to the light. It casts Tony in eerie shadows. When Tony glances up and catches Steve looking he doesn’t say anything only raises his eyebrow and smiles.

“Now what we have here, dear Captain,” Tony says and it jolts Steve back to the problem at hand. “Is one fired board. But I can fix it, just need the right parts.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” Steve says and his heart sinks.

“Can’t we get them at the Station?” Bucky says.

“It’s a slavers’ station-.”

“With an extensive market on other things including ship supplies,” Bruce says.

“Yeah, well, they aren’t in the business of bartering for foodstuffs,” Steve says, because none of them have the credits to cover parts for a hyper jump circuit board.

“I can get the parts,” Tony says when Steve protests. 

“Tony,” Pepper says and her tone admonishes at the same time it shows concern. 

“Don’t Tony me, dear, we know I can do this.” Tony taps the burnt out panel. “I have the credits. They’ll barter with me for credits, everyone wants Inner Belt credits.”

“Oh, oh,” Steve says and releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Bucky knocks him in the arm. Frowning, Steve glares at him. 

“No, Cap, I’m not going to sell my soul or my fabulous ass to these dickweeds,” Tony says.

“What parts do you need,” Steve says and lifts his chin to indicate the panel. “Make a list and if you could give me the credits, I’ll go-.”

“Um, no?” Tony says.

“You cannot go on a sex slavers station,” Steve says.

Tony screws up his face and while he looks a little ridiculous in his indignation, something deep down twists and tightens in Steve’s gut – and he likes how it feels. He likes the interplay with Tony, they are equals but not enemies in their arguments. He sees something contrasting that’s attractive and interesting.

“Why not?”

“For God’s sake, you’re a Courtesan, you cannot traipse around a sex slavers Station,” Steve starts.

“Captain, I thought we already discussed this. Are you insulting me again, because I feel insulted, really I do.” 

Steve lets out a breath because if he doesn’t he might explode. “I am not insulting you; it’s just dangerous for you. Slavers are not particular about who they decide to abduct and sell into slavery. And a Courtesan, already trained, is hot property.” Tony has to know this, Steve reasons. Courtesans are hot property for slavers, a reason why Courtesans have bodyguards.

“They won’t know it’s me,” Tony says. “I won’t wear my normal wardrobe, and I’ve forgo the medallion.”

“That won’t matter,” Steve says. “Because it’s you.”

“Tony listen to him, he knows what he’s talking about. Without Happy here,” Pepper says and her eyes are wide with worry. “With Happy here, you won’t be protected.”

“While I am incredibly complimented by your concern, Captain, I can protect myself. I can even protect you, as evidenced by my saving of the great Captain America from a bunch of robot drones on Haven Rim.”

“This isn’t the same thing, these people are brutal,” Steve says. “Free people are abducted into slavery all over, but this is even more vile.”

“You need the parts,” Tony replies. “I can get them and I know what I need. You don’t, or tell me you have a degree in Advance Hyper Dimensionality.”

“And you do?” Steve screams back at Tony. He can’t control his anger; he can’t stop himself from wanting to stop Tony’s foolishness. He can’t explain his need to protect Tony – it’s more than the simple commission, so much more.

“Damn it, I fucking wrote my senior thesis on it in college, so yes, I know a lot.”

Steve glances at Pepper and she’s silently begging him with her eyes to somehow control Tony. He throws up his hands. “I don’t – I can’t. You.” He points at Tony. “You cannot do this. Even without your Courtesan stuff, you’ll be recognizable. You’re Tony Stark, everyone knows you, from the Grids and the Rag-net.”

“And that, dear Captain is where I come in.” Loki, who had been lurking under the gantry ladder, appears by this side.

“And what are you going to do, walk around and look pretty?” Bucky scoff as Loki turns a half grin at him.

“It’s truly nice to know you think of me that way. What is it, Winter Soldier, correct? There must be lots of stories you could scare children at night with, aren’t there?” Loki sneers at Bucky. 

Bucky steps forward into Loki’s personal space, but Steve intercedes and grabs Bucky’s shoulder to push him back. “Just don’t, okay?”

Bucky heaves in a breath through flared nostrils and settles down. “Fine.” 

He thinks he’ll have to string up the punching bag for Bucky. And for himself. He needs to work off some steam as well – for many different reasons. 

“You want to explain?” Steve turns around to Loki. He might as well take the bait; Loki has been a mystery on board his ship. He has no idea how Loki figured out Bucky’s identity, it isn’t widely spread that the Winter Soldier is Bucky Barnes.

“My brother possesses our mother’s talent of illusion.” 

Steve jumps a little at Thor’s booming voice. He’d forgotten about the Asgardian.

“Illusion?” Bucky frowns. “What he can do a few card tricks? How the hell is that supposed to help us keep the slavers away from pretty boy over there?”

“Truly, you do have a strange habit, don’t you?” Loki smiles again, and the expression reminds Steve of a predator who mocks and taunts its prey.

“I’m not exactly sure how you can help, Loki, but-.” Tony looks ruffled, as if he wants to stay as far away from Loki as possible. Steve doesn’t blame him, he’s not entirely sure he trusts Thor’s brother either.

“My brother enjoys many talents which may be of service to you. He may be able to steal you onto this slavers’ station without detection.”

“This is so unlike you brother, so clandestine,” Loki goads and smiles with relish. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just punch your way into the station?”

“If you keep that up, we just might,” Bucky hisses back and Steve clenches a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Steve says and knows he has to decide soon. When they dock with the station, and they have to dock, they don’t have a choice. The ship needs repairs and there’s no other human settlement within auxiliary power range. 

“Perhaps a little demonstration?” Loki says and turns to Thor as a green white light flashes and dissipates. “Hmm, brother, you look ravishing.”

“Lady Sif?” Steve gawks and drops his hand from Bucky’s arm.

“Not quite, enough with your tricks, Loki,” Thor says. 

“As you wish brother,” Loki says and the illusion disappears as quickly as it had appeared. “Only say the word and I will change your beloved Courtesan into any form with which to conceal him so that we may journey onward to the Inner Belts.”

“This might work,” Pepper says and looks hopeful at Steve and then back to Tony.

Tony lifts a shoulder. “Sounds like a good deal to me. As long as my beloved Captain okays the deal.”

“I’m not-.” Steve grits his teeth and fists his hands. “Okay, okay, we dock and Loki will cast this illusion or whatever it is.” He doesn’t believe in magic, there’s no such thing as magic. But what the hell did he just see? 

“Steve,” Bucky protests, but Steve shakes his head and holds up his hand.

“We really don’t have a choice. Bruce has admitted he can’t fix it, Tony can but he needs the parts. None of us know enough to get everything we need,” Steve says.

“And none of you know enough to get what I need if you have to substitute something. This’ll work snow boy, trust me.”

Somehow none of this feels right, but in the end Steve agrees. He’s backed into a corner without any real viable choices. He hates it, and surveys the faces around him. Everyone looks edgy, tense, but he’s not sure why. Steve thinks each of them might have different reasons for their anxiety. When his gaze falls upon Tony, he recognizes both a kind of glee with excitement mixed in with a sense of need, as if he wants to prove himself of value. This tugs deeply into Steve, because he’s been there, needing to show his worth to others. 

Steve can only wonder what happened to such a brilliant man in his life that he thinks he’s worthless and in search of ways to show himself as valuable. He nods in agreement, he has no other choice, but he hates it. Yet, he cannot honestly say whether he hates the thought of the act itself, or using Tony like this. 

“Get ready, once we dock, I want this operation over and done with in two standard hours.” 

He doesn’t allow anyone to answer; he marches out of the Engine room to direct Natasha and Clint regarding the plans. He keeps his mind forced on the mission. He refuses to think about the danger to Tony. He refuses to admit it. He refuses to think about the fact they are relying on a questionable character casting a spell or something – it can’t be magic. 

There is no danger, he thinks, but knows he’s lying to himself.


	9. Chapter 9

In the end, Steve, Loki, and Thor accompany Tony to the market area of the station. They don’t have a lot of time to get the purchase completed. When they gather in the hold, Tony straightens his shoulders, opens his arms in a grand gesture, and says, “Hit me.”

“As you wish,” Loki says with a bow and flicks his wrist and a flash of green white light encompasses Tony. 

In seconds the light transforms Tony into a filthy looking ample bellied bald man with a scraggly beard and blackened teeth. Loki snorts a little but the image sizzles and fades out. He does a double take and says, “What?”

“Brother? You are not on your game today. Stop this nonsense and do the job you have been requested to do,” Thor says and sighs out an apology to Steve.

Steve holds up his hand to ward it off as unnecessary. “Loki?”

“I don’t, I don’t understand. This usually works.”

“Performance issues, one out of five,” Tony says and smirks. Loki hisses at Tony and leans into his personal space. “Whoa there fella, just stating what I’ve seen, in more ways than one, if you get my drift.”

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Bucky says as he strides up to them. “The deck officer of the station is going to inspect our flight plan and when they find out we’re not legally supposed to be here-.”

Steve cuts him off. “Understood. Natasha will go with you to review the flight plan with the officer. We’ll get this done on time, promise.” Steve’s not sure if they’ll be able to pay the port fee, but Bucky might be able to dissuade the man from an extreme price.

“You better,” Bucky says and moves off to join Natasha as they descend the gangplank. 

“Loki, please?”

Loki holds up his hands again, and this time shoots what can only be described as two green balls of liquid fire at Tony. They splatter across him, as the image of the filthy man emerges and then flickers out again. “I don’t understand. There must be some interference.” Loki holds up his hand near Tony but doesn’t touch him. “Electro-magnetic interference.”

He reaches forward and Tony steps back. “Ah, no.”

“What?” Steve asks and his focus zeroes in on the glowing disc at the center of Tony’s chest. 

“He’s not touching it.” Tony crosses his arms and stands firm. 

“I can-,” Steve says and then Tony shakes his head.

“You don’t get it, Freezer Burn, no one touches the arc reactor, no one.”

Steve frowns, he wonders how that works with the whole Courtesan thing, but maybe, it’s some kind of jewelry or something. “Well, then you can take it out.”

“No, I can’t,” Tony says. His expression shuts the door on further conversation.

“Tony, we have to-.”

“I can’t remove it,” Tony replies.

“Is it some kind of Courtesan thing? Or biological implant?” Steve’s at a loss for what to do, most biological implants that are not life supporting can be removed for upgrades. Yet, Tony professed not to have any biological implants. Steve cannot imagine what its use is.

“You might say that,” Tony says and licks his lips. “I’d rather not get into it here, Captain. But I can’t remove the arc reactor.”

“The illusion won’t work as long as it is generating such a strong electromagnetic field,” Loki says. 

“Is the illusion some nanotechnology, some electromagnet-.”

“It is our mother’s magic and you will not denigrate it by supposing it might be thought of as that of your primitive science.” 

“Primitive science is what your ass is dependent on right now,” Tony spits back.

“Stop,” Steve says and puts his hands up between them. 

“As long as the arc reactor, as you call it, is present, I cannot create the illusion,” Loki says. “I am sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Tony replies, returning Loki’s glower. 

“Tony,” Steve admonishes. “Is there any way to turn it down?”

Tony chuckles. “That’s a good one Capsicle, like I have a dimmer switch or something. It isn’t technology like that, but that was adorably cute.”

Steve paces around in a circle, and then notices that Tony has the hand jewelry repulsor things on his palms again. As before they are laced up his arms in an intricate manner that’s quite exquisite, but this time Steve sees that they are also hooked up to device in Tony’s chest – the arc reactor.

“What about those things? Maybe if you remove them the field won’t be so much,” Steve says and knows he sounds like an idiot; he can even feel the heat of his words blush his face.

Tony lifts a brow and says, “Well, technically they do run on the power source, so if I remove them the electromagnetic field will be more localized. It might work, but it would leave me at a distinct disadvantage without a weapon.”

“I’m not certain why a Courtesan needs a weapon of that kind,” Steve says. “But I think we have to give it a try.”

Tony puts his hands out in front of him and opens up his palms, staring at them. He’s not happy about it, clearly, but he looks at the repulsors and then decides to remove them. The task takes a sum total of five minutes. He throws the repulsors and decorative wiring onto a crate in the hold and says, “Third time’s the charm.”

Loki steps up to Tony and waves a hand over him. The grimy dirtied man reappears and the image steadies without any wavering. 

“Looks like we have a go,” Tony says and he smiles showing his crocked blackened teeth. He peers down at his new image. “But after this I really do need to know how it’s done.”

“You wish,” Loki snickers.

“Isn’t it going to be strange that some indigent person wants to buy engine parts?” Steve asks. He just wants to get in and out of the stations as quickly as possible. They are not supposed to be here, and the longer they linger the more flak he’s going to get from SHIELD.

“I will purchase the parts as my human slave follows me about the marketplace.” Thor says.

“We got it worked out.” Tony slaps the side of Thor’s arm with the back of his hand. “I’ll give him an idea of what we need and he’ll buy it. Then I’ll carry it for him. Easy peasy, right Thunder God?”

“I believe that accurately describes what we have decided upon, though it does gloss over many of the critical details.” Thor clenches his hammer in his fist.

“Details we really don’t have time to go over,” Steve says as he checks his chronometer. The deck officer will be grilling Natasha and Bucky over their illegal stop at the station. “Bucky knows about this little charade? We’re gonna be ticketed when he pass through the checkpoints.”

“I gave them the rundown of what we’d decided on,” Tony says and they move off toward the gangplank. 

Ready to leave, Steve notes the hammer in Thor’s hand. “Can you leave that here? I don’t think we’ll get through the check points with it.”

“Perhaps we should consider another illusion to conceal it?” Thor says.

“I’d rather not press my luck, dear brother. I am not certain about my ability to maintain the illusion over the Courtesan without intense concentration on the imagery.”

“Thor?” Steve waits, and Thor concedes. He places the hammer to the side and nods. “Let’s do this,” Steve says and feels naked without his shield. He glances briefly over his shoulder glimpsing Clint and Bruce waiting up on the gantry. Clint offers him a half salute and Steve lifts his chin in response. He’s not sure where Tony’s assistant, Pepper is, but in some ways is glad she decided not to see them off. 

A cacophony of noise both human and mechanical greets them as they descend the ramp way to the main deck of the station port. While the space station is not bustling like a Way Station connecting different hyper jump routes, a mass of humans swarm the large open bay area. The Blessed Station is known for its unsavory types and the sex slave trade here deals in all kinds of tastes and preferences. Steve tries to look ahead, keeping his eyes and brain fixed on the target. He forces himself not to make eye contact with the poor slaves as they are shuffled from one vessel to another, or from a vessel to an Exchange Master – known owners who train slaves for their lot in life. The trafficking in humans had been one of the things he fought against in a long ago war; he looks back at the scruffy old man following him – at Tony – and cringes. 

He feels hot prickles up and down his spine and he bites back his response. He cannot respond, he needs his crew and his passengers to survive this little outing. He cannot be the hero here. 

The crouched old man near to him – Tony – peers up and says, “Steady there, Captain, there are other ways to fry fish.”

Steve gives him a quizzical look, because he’s not sure what Tony is trying to impart, but he nods curtly and ushers them toward the intake line. They wait out the long lines, Steve using his status as a Captain for SHIELD Corp to push them through the lines. It does take a little more than that to get them pass the checkpoints. He’s not happy about it, but Tony slips him a credit disc he’s palmed and he waves it over the console, paying off any questions fairly easily.

When they are free of the increased scrutiny, Steve says between clenched teeth, “Don’t do that again.”

“What? Get our asses out of the fire?”

“Someone could have seen you,” Steve says.

“Well, they didn’t, good Captain, and I don’t know if you didn’t notice, but this isn’t the Rim Worlds with their shitty security. You can’t just charm your way around a sex slave station,” Tony mutters as they pass a group of market officers. 

“Shall we get to the matter at hand, gentleman?” Loki gestures to the wide expanse of the market area.

Steve scans the different store fronts and, nearly all of them, sell some kind of pain or pleasure of the sexual nature. Steve bristles but swallows back his disapproval. The lighting is subdued and there’s a certain feel to the market, claustrophobic with a touch of peril. He guides the group to a vendor who looks like he might offer what they are looking for, not all of the sellers are working in humans. 

Thor makes a show of pacing through the store, plucking up parts and tossing them as his human _slave_ grunts or hums. The hums seem to indicate approval while the grunts dismiss the parts that Thor picks up. Steve hangs at the entrance to the small hovel while Loki trails after his brother and Tony. When Thor returns with his entourage, he’s only managed to secure one of the parts. They move onto another vendor, having to slip by a host of scantily clad women and men as they move through the throngs.

A kink room vendor smirks at Steve and he sidles away from her. She smiles and calls out to him. “Hey handsome, I can whip you a little, make you all relaxed, make you nice and loose. We got slaves that’ll beat you good.”

He doesn’t respond, just turns away and searches the tiers of the market area for another suitable store when Thor indicates they’ve come back empty handed. Pointing to the upper deck, they push through the crowd to the stairway. “This way.”

“Makes you uncomfortable, Captain?” Tony murmurs as he gambles and comes close to Steve.

“Keep your mind on the game,” Steve says and ignores the slight off glance Tony offers him. He wonders if Loki’s illusion can capture the subtlest of Tony’s expressions, or if it is all fakery.

“Come,” Thor says and they find their way to a new vendor. This store is larger with a huge selection of tech. 

Once again, Steve stays near the entrance and waits as the three sort through the bins in the store for the needed parts. As he scans the crowd, his eyes find Hawkeye frantically looking around the station’s market place. Reaching up to his ear, he realizes he’s forgotten to take his comm link again. Natasha will be none too happy with him. He spots Clint on the lower level. He steps over to the railing and gives a choppy wave. Clint takes the stairs two at a time. When he arrives he’s slightly out of breath but, even Steve can see it is more than the search.

“You need to start remembering you damned comm bud,” Hawkeye pants.

“What? What is it?”

“Deck officer isn’t moving, he’s gonna impound the Commando.”

“Damn it,” Steve says and peers back into the store front. Tony hunches over a bin as Thor and Loki haggle on the prices. “Okay, okay, I’ll come. Just let me tell them.”

Clint nods and Steve walks over to Thor, pointedly ignoring Tony but speaking loud enough for the man to hear him. “Some problems with the deck officer. I have to go back to the ship.”

“Understood, good Captain Rogers. We will complete our purchase and join you presently,” Thor says.

Before Steve leaves, he weighs the options and there are none. He has to go and figure out a way to clear up the problems with the deck officer. “Okay.” He eyes Loki, there’s just something about the man – god- whatever - he’s not apt to trust. “Don’t be long.”

“Why, never Captain,” Loki smiles and Steve is reminded of a cat checking out its prey.

He doesn’t reply, but glances Tony’s way once. The man is busying sorting through a bin as Thor picks up pieces and Tony responds with their strange secret code. Straightening his shoulders, Steve moves off with Clint and follows through the exit points to the dock for the Howling Commando. 

The deck officer, a large man with thick sausage like fingers, and a thin mustache that grows long and hangs past his chin, stands next to Natasha with his pad clutched in his hands. Sweaty handprints stain the pad’s screen. 

“Sir? Can I be of assistance?” Steve walks up and joins Natasha. Clint takes up his place next to the ramp way. Bucky looks like he’s about to bust an artery as he hulks near the side of the ship. 

“Don’t go all class crap on me, I ain’t no Sir and you knows it.”

Steve raises his gloved hands and says, “No harm intended, may I help you, Officer?” He ensures that it is obvious he capitalizes Officer in his statement.

“Better, but not great, at all,” the deck officer says and he sniffles. “I ain’t got the time or the mind to worries about you. Got it?”

Steve’s not exactly sure what the man is talking about but he nods. “I understand, and I would never think to waste your time, Officer. What may I help you with?”

“You ain’t scheduled for this stop, here.” The Officer points to the pad. “Looks ta me like you needs to be out by the Rims. What the fuck are youse doing out here at my station?”

Steve considers the man. He knows that what happened on Haven will be broadcast over the Rag-nets, and SHIELD will be handling damage control. Hammer slave ships are not supposed to round up orphans and lost children from the Rims. Yet, interceding without proper authority will cause all kinds of issues and report backs to SHIELD. Mission after mission he keeps finding himself in deep. If SHIELD finds out they ended up damaged and drifting near a sex slaver station without the flight plan to allow it, they might levy a huge tax on the commission and that will cut out the crew from being released from their debt and contracts to SHIELD.

“Truth be told, Officer, we’re a bit on the rough side.” He knows he’s not a good con-man but he has to try something. 

“You been over to the Rims causing all kinds of discontent, I hears.” 

“We got in the way, that’s for sure. Bothered the wrong people. You know how it is,” Steve says with a shrug. “After that, a little off time seems about right, don’t you think?” 

The man surveys him with his narrow eyes and taps his fat fingers along the thin strings of hair that hang down from his mustache. “Don’t like it.”

“Not much for us to do here but get a little action,” Steve says. He peers over his shoulder at Bucky and lift his shoulder. “Seeing as the Winter Soldier over there went and asked me about stopping here, I thought it might be best to give him his day off. What do you think?”

He keeps his eyes on Bucky and his friend instantly knows, reads him and how he’s playing the game. Bucky shifts around so that his metal arm with its red star is prominently shown. 

“Might be him,” the officer says. “Might not be.”

“You can always test that out for yourself,” Steve says. “But you know from our registration who he is.”

The man scrolls over his pad and keys a few commands into it. He looks up at Steve and then at Bucky. “You’ll need to fill out the report.”

“I can have my pilot-.”

“No, you,” the officer states and stands his ground.

Sighing, Steve agrees. It will take time. He should call out Bucky or Natasha or Clint to go after Tony and the brothers, but he knows he can’t do anything that will make the deck officers suspicious. He can’t have the station knowing that a Courtesan of Tony’s fame is wandering around the place. There are too many unsavory types on the station. 

He telegraphs a message to Natasha as he walks over to the booth to go over the reports for the officer. “I’d appreciate it if we could forego the official registration, considering.”

His words weigh in the air, heavy and burdened. The officer glares at him, and Steve knows he’s going to have to pay for it. He notices a small band practically embedded on the man’s ring finger.

“Don’t know if I gots what you needs.”

“I do,” Steve says. “Families always need so much.”

The man smiles and his mustache shudders. “You got that right.”

“Maybe your family needs something we got?” Steve says.

“Could do with some good food, some clothes? Tired of the artificial fare.”

“Coming right up,” Steve says and the man taps in a few orders into the computer on the wall in the booth. 

“You got a pass as a neutral. Now just finish up the review of your registration and you gonna be done.”

It only takes Steve another half hour to finish it off, Steve brings the man over to the ship and directs Natasha to retrieve some of the supplies they have stored on the ship. Their next stop will end up with less, but he might be able to barter for more supplies along the way to bulk up his deliveries at the end of the line before they enter the Inner Belts. 

As he finishes up with the deck officer he spots Thor bursting through the crowd at the dock, his wide hair tangled and his expression furious. Tony and Loki are nowhere in sight.

“Thor?” Steve rushes out to meet him, leaving Natasha to deal with the officer.

“My sincerest apologies, Captain, but my brother may very well have betrayed us.” Thor keeps glancing over his shoulder as if he’s worried he’s being followed. 

“Why? What happened?”

“I but turned my back for only moments, and my brother disappeared. With him gone, the illusion faded as well, leaving Courtesan Tony revealed.” Thor runs a hand through his hair. 

“What? Where did Loki go, and where’s Tony?”

“I am unsure.” Thor says. “I went to find my brother, asking Courtesan Tony to stay at the shop we were currently purchasing items.”

Steve slumps. “Don’t tell me, he didn’t listen to you?”

“I fear there was an altercation while I looked for my brother. I came to you immediately. I do not know these human stations and, thus I could not know where to look for him.” Thor truly looks lost and angry.

Instead of dwelling on the probabilities and possibilities, Steve swings into action. “Winter Soldier.”

Bucky instantly straightens.

“I need you, we have to find Tony. Get ready.”

“Cap? You need me?” Clint steps out of the ramp.

“More the merrier.” Steve waits as Bucky disappears into the ship to gather up their weapons. It won’t be easy to do this; they are going to have to storm the station. He glances over at Natasha. Although she’s busy with the officer, Steve knows she has one ear listening in on them. 

“Thor, get the hell out there and find your brother.” 

Before Thor follows the orders, he sticks out his hand and something clanks in the ship, and then the hammer flies into his hand. Steve blinks a few times, but decides now is not the time to question magical hammers. Thor races forward without even asking about the plan. Steve considers yelling after him, but then stops. He doesn’t want to alert everyone what they’re about to do. Natasha will have to hold the ship while Steve, Bucky, and Clint search for Tony. 

In seconds, Bucky runs down the ramp and tosses Steve his shield and a gun. Steve holsters it, no need asking for trouble off the bat. Bucky’s weapon of choice is a sniper’s rifle and he has his back holster on while Clint emerges with his bow and arrows. 

Several of the officers have taken note, they don’t have much time. 

“Let’s go, act like we’re supposed to be here with weapons.” He heads toward the check points. “We’re jumping it.”

“Got it, Cap.”

Bolting through like a spearhead, they cut the crowds. They leap through the checkpoints before the bewildered officers react. The crowd jerks and collapses around them as they rush through. Security alerts sound and he knows that Natasha will need to deal with the aftermath, but his faith in her abilities leaves him to focus on the task at hand. 

From previous experience he knows that when sex slavers strike they do so quickly and efficiently. They leave nothing for debate and try to cover their tracks. They aren’t like Hammer Corp scooping up the lost children of the Rim with an iron fist and a bunch of terrorizing robots. Instead, the sex slavers will scurry within the crowd, hiding and concealing until ready to strike. How they might have found out about Tony is a question for another time. He really doesn’t even know if Tony is in danger, but something about the whole situation feels wrong, off, oddly balanced.

As they race through the checkpoints, guards turn and call for them to halt. They don’t. They keep at it, trying to push through the swarms of people and the maze of mechanicals. If they are lucky they might be able to get lost in the crowd. Most stations have high tech surveillance but Steve counts on one thing – the fact that most outer stations don’t keep their systems up to date and most systems are faulty at best. 

The alarms screech and Clint hops up to an upper deck of the receiving area to target the cameras and other equipment. The arrows fly and the place is plunged into darkness with only an occasional bright red light flashing warnings.

Steve leads the way to the marketplace that is strangely untouched by the ruckus going on behind them. He can hear the march of guards as they weave through the crowds toward them. 

“Second tier,” Steve says and Bucky tosses him a comm link.

“I’m taking up position to cover you. Don’t be long,” Bucky states and disappears into the throng. He’s not sure where Bucky will be, but that is part of the mystic of the Winter Soldier as an assassin and sniper. 

Steve climbs up to the tier he’d left Tony on, he targets the same storefront. Entering the store, he heads straight toward the counter where an older woman much past her prime but eternally pretending to be younger, looks up at him.

“Miss,” Steve says, picking his words carefully. “Did you happen to see the three men I was in here earlier with?”

She laughs and he smiles at her, though nothing about her is appealing he offers her his most abashed grin.

“Oh my, yes I did,” she says and cracks a Ring pill on to her tongue. The drug slowly dissolves while encircled about the user’s tongue. Her words sound garbled because of it. “You coming ‘round here, I couldn’t miss it, could I?”

“Well, miss, you flatter me,” he says while he keeps an eye toward the front of the store past the bins of assorted tech. “Did you see where they went?”

“Oh the big one, well, he didn’t notice it, but I did. The darker, taller one, he slunk off and disappeared. Then that’s when it gets strange.”

“Strange?” Steve wants to throttle her, wants her to hurry up. He doesn’t have time for idle chit chat.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s when the Ringer kicks in,” she giggles and points to her mouth. “Sorry, but I was using at the time. You know how it is, sweetie. That old slave you comes in with, he turns into that famous Courtesan, you know that cock fer hire, Tony Stark. Everyone ‘ere knows his face,” She waves at him. “I ain’t no use when I’m using, sweetie.”

“Did you see what happened to the old man, I mean the Tony Stark character?”

“Oh, he your slave, sweetie?” She grins. “I got some girls in the back be pretty good fer you. I could get ‘em out here.”

“If you don’t mind, miss, I’d like to find him. He has something of mine,” he quickly adds the last when she looks dubiously at him.

“Well, after he finished up, he walked out the front and then a big ta do happened and some guys of Manny’s took him.”

“Manny?” 

“Biggest damned sex slaver around.” She lifts her chin. “Find him on the outer tier of the dock. Getting ready for departure, most probably considerin’ the catch he made with the Stark character.”

“Damn it,” he says and then turns back to her. “Thank you, miss, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, you lovely boy.”

He nods and hurries to the main promenade of the market. Tapping the comm link he says, “We have a problem, Tony’s been taken by a slaver known as Manny.”

“Cap, I’m coming in,” Hawkeye responds.

“Outer tier of the dock, readying for departure,” Steve says as he runs through the crowd, trying to avoid any of the guards spotting him as he searches for the outer tier.

“Come on back to the flight deck, outer tier is close to here,” Hawkeye says.

“Look for any signs of him,” Steve orders.

“Already on it.”

“Buck?”

“On your six, Cap, keep lively.” 

Steve doesn’t bother to turn around and try and hunt down Bucky. He knows his friend understands his business as the Winter Soldier and Steve doesn’t have to shore him up on it. 

It only takes minutes for him to cross the distance back to the flight deck and toward the outer tier. While he pushes past the crowds and evades the guards, he ducks into a shadowed recess to survey the area.

“Hawk?”

“I got some questionable movement toward the loading area of outer tier three, you might want to check that out.”

“Anyone to cover?” Steve says and he creeps forward.

“I have you in my sights,” Hawk returns and Steve slips into the passage toward the outer tier of the flight deck. 

The activity indicates the ship readies for launch. A string of slaves are hustled aboard, but as the crew prepares the ship one of them yells back, “We got one more in the prep room, getting collared up. He ain’t nothing but trouble.”

A quick scan of the slave line tells him hat Tony isn’t amongst them, and while Steve would love to free all of them, he has neither the ability nor the plan to get them to safety. He has to focus on the goal. Steve slides onto his knees and peers over to the ship, beyond it he glimpses a large receiving and departing area. He can see a door partially closed to the side. It might be the corridor to the prep room, or it could be a closet. He has one chance at this.

“Hawk, prep room? Can you tell if that room near the main counter is the prep room for this launch bay?”

Silence answers him and then a low hiss. “It might be, Cap, but I’m not getting a good view from my position.”

“Okay, I’m going in, cover me.”

From his crouched position, he can easily hunch low and stay out of sight as he creeps along the perimeter of the berth. With a quick look back to the loading crew, Steve corners the departing counter and sidles toward the door. Opening it, he slips inside and crosses the short hallway in three strides. He can hear muffled noises, like grunts and half-choked words coming from a door to the left side. He tries the door, and it isn’t locked – twisting quickly, he swings it open and stops in his tracks when he sees what’s inside. 

It is the prep room but should be more accurately labeled the torture room. He grimaces, and thinks how the hell could this happen right out in the open, but then again sex slavery happens and the Elite don’t do anything to stop it. Before him in the small room, not larger than an elevator or lift – five men crowd into the room, and surround their victim. 

The victim is Tony, on his knees, stripped to the waist with his arms chained behind his back. One of the men has an electric prod used on animals and threatens Tony with it as another man tries to lock a sex slave collar around his neck. It hasn’t gone well because the man holding the collar has several bite wounds up and down his arms. For his efforts Tony sports burn marks across his back and upper arms, a split lip, a quickly swelling eye, and bruising that shines in the dim light up and down his flank. 

“What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” The man with the electric prod spits out.

Steve only shrugs, and says, “Not anybody, really, just a kid from the Rims.” With those words he lashes out. The room is too cramped to use the shield and he leaves it clamped to his back while he faces off against the men. 

One man yanks at the shield and manages to heave Steve backward while the one with the prod stick it into Steve’s abdomen, it hurts like hell, but Steve uses the guy hanging on his back as leverage and balances back on him to kick with both booted feet against his attacker. A boot to the chin and his first assailant falls, gagging and coughing. 

The man behind him shoves Steve off and into the arms of another but Steve instantly brings his forearm up and knocks the man’s trachea back into his throat. Choking he goes down in a lump. Spinning on his heel, Steve checks Tony for one second and it might be a mistake because one of the three last men standing clunks Steve in the head with something metal and heavy. It throws him off and he wavers as the world tries to funnel into darkness. Fighting it, he struggles to maintain his stance as another assailant attacks him. This time a fist hits him in the kidney but he roars up and knocks the goon in his solar plexus, and then smashes him in the jaw. He staggers backward as Steve kicks him out the door. 

With only two men left, they circle him. Steve has Tony behind him and he can hear ragged breathing.

“How you doing?” Steve asks.

“Apparently better than you,” Tony replies but Steve can hear the pain laced in his voice.

“If you want to take care of things, I could just leave.” 

“No, no,” Tony says. “Go right ahead, Captain. I know how you like to feel important.”

With that, Steve lurches forward and slams whole body into one of the men. The man falters but stays on his feet as the other man leaps on top of Steve from behind. With a thrust to the wall, Steve compresses the one on his back into the hard surface as the attacker in the front tries his hand at strangulating Steve. He thumps against the wall several times to get the man to fall. It takes a good three strong hits before he releases his hold and collapses to the floor. 

Finally, Steve turns his attention to the man with his fingers pressed into his windpipe. Bringing his hands up in clenched fists he smashes outward at his attackers elbow joint. It’s enough to throw him off and Steve grabs the guy’s belt and throws him into the opposite wall. He crashes to the floor. 

Flying into action, Steve goes to Tony’s side and checks the manacles. Only examining them for a few seconds, Steve grasps the metal in his hands and twists until it gives.

“Hawk, Buck, we’re coming in hot.”

“Got it,” Hawkeye responds.

He knows not to expect a word from Bucky, since he will be pacing his breathing to calm it so he can pick off any attackers with a sharp single shot. 

“Can you walk?” Steve turns back to Tony as he stumbles to his hands and knees. 

“Might, not sure, hit me in the head pretty bad. Gave me something.” He reaches up and comes away from his matted hair with stained fingers. 

“They gave you something? Like a drug?”

“Well, they didn’t invite me to a tea party, did they Captain?” Tony says and visibly swallows as he tries to steady himself.

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Steve says and lends Tony his shoulder. Tony stumbles as he stands and falls into Steve’s shoulder. With a hand on his chest, Steve notices the light in the arc reactor thing look dim. “Are you, are you okay?”

“It’s – I think I need to sit down.”

Steve glances up at the door, he’s sure the rest of the loading crew will appear due to the delay. “We don’t have time. I can carry you.”

“I don’t-“ Tony falters again, starting to slide down Steve.

“Oh no, there you go,” Steve says and grabs Tony to right him.

“Get the bag,” Tony mumbles into Steve’s shoulder. 

“Bag?”

“Parts,” Tony says and gestures to the corner of the room. 

With one hand, Steve hoists Tony onto his shoulder and scoops up the bag as he exits the room. He slings it on his shoulder and heads toward the general flight deck and the Howling Commando.

“Hawk, we’re coming.” They’ll never be inconspicuous so he opts for going as fast as he can. He’s through the short hallway and racing toward the alcove to the general flight deck in seconds.

Over the comm, Hawk informs him, “You got a tail or two.”

“Hit ‘em, hit ‘em hard,” Steve says and hates to give the order, but the need is there and he has no other choice. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” One of the crew yells from the ramp of their ship. 

Steve doesn’t linger, he bolts off with Tony clenched in his arm. The off kilter balance of the weight, though, slows him down so that he stops for a minute and adjusts to hold Tony bridle style.

“Can you walk?”

“I think I’m gonna puke, Captain.”

“Damn it,” Steve says as he steps out onto the main flight deck. One of the goons from Manny’s slaver ship suddenly appears and calls out to them. As Steve turns around to confront him, a shot rings out and hits the man square in the forehead, who had just aimed a gun at Steve’s back. Steve looks up and glimpses just the glint of a sniper rifle as Bucky disappears back into the gantry of the flight deck.

“Come on Captain, we’re keeping it clear for you,” Hawkeye chimes out as arrows fly and burst into a concealing wall of smoke and flame.

“On my way,” he says as he cradles Tony close to his chest. He won’t be able to defend them, not like this, not holding Tony with both of his arms. He has to hope that Bucky and Clint will do their jobs efficiently and without hesitation. He has no worries, he can trust his crew.

The alarms sing out and the guards order everyone to drop. Arrows explode above the crowd to distract and disorient. Another round of fire hits the ceiling lighting and the only way to find the ship is because Natasha must be in on the act. The Howling Commando blinks out a code in the bay. He jumps the checkpoints, twisting on his heel, kicking an officer in the groin and then dashing away.

He dodges a barrage of gunfire, hides behind a load of crates with Tony held close to his chest. Setting Tony down, he taps on the earbud. “Natasha, any word on Thor?”

“Thor and his two timing brother are on board, Captain. Had to take out the deck officer, though.”

“Understood, we’re about twenty meters away from the ship.” He looks down and Tony fights to remain awake. “Tony, I need you to wake up, stay awake, because the next twenty meters or so are going to be the most dangerous. It’s all open space.”

“Captain, I’m flying in with Winter on my back. Wait until we get into position and then follow,” Hawkeye says.

“Copy that,” Steve replies and watches as Tony leans over and kneels against the side of the packing crate to vomit. He places his hand between Tony’s bare shoulders. The bruises mottle his back so Steve is careful as he touches him. “Ready?” He removes the shield from his back, he can use it as they cross the open space.

Wiping away the bile, Tony nods and hisses at the same time. 

“Fireman’s carry and I can use my gun at the same time,” Steve says and bends down to sling Tony over his shoulder.

“Not sure I can do this, Captain,” Tony groans. He goes a distinct color of gray.

If he has broken or cracked ribs, Steve knows he’s making it worse. He grunts out an acknowledgement, yanks free his gun, and sprints toward the closed ramp of the Howling Commando.

He hears several shots ping off the shield and can only hope that Tony’s safe as he leaps toward the gap as the ramp slowly descends. He catches the edge of the ramp, flings Tony inside, and crawls up the side. Both Bucky and Clint cover him from their spots within the flight deck and fire explodes through the station. Even before he’s clear of the ramp way’s mechanism, Natasha must pull it because it halts its current motion and begins to ascend back into the ship. Rolling free of the latch, he’s on his feet, gathering Tony to his chest and tossing the bag of parts to Bruce. 

Pepper greets him, her face ashen and concerned. He grits his teeth and starts back toward the medical bay. Bruce stops him. “It’s loaded with cargo, bring him up to his quarters and I’ll see what I can do. I’ll meet you there, going up the back to the top hatch.”

He needs to shift Tony back into the fireman’s carry again to lug him up the metal ladder to the gantry and the quarters of the ship. He tosses his shield to the side and concentrates only on the burden in his arms. As he shifts Tony into a bridal carry the ship rumbles and he feels the feet retract and the ship loosed from its moorings. With Tony anchored against his chest, he begins climbing the later. The ship swoops and roars to life and he clings to the ladder, one arm around Tony, the other clutching the rungs. 

“Captain?” Pepper cries out from below as he teeters on the metal structure.

“Hold on,” Steve growls out and then the ship hurls forward out of the bay, but it swings back toward the flight deck and he understands what Natasha is doing. He hears Bruce yelling and hears the top hatch open and distinct thumps landing on the top of the ship. As both Clint and Bucky scurry into the ship and Bruce closes the hatch, the Howling Commando breaches the bay and flies off into space. With a final heave, Steve’s able to finish his climb to the gantry and then pull Tony to his chest again and race toward his quarters with Pepper following him. He has to wait for Pepper to open the hatch and he steps through it. He lays Tony onto the bed after Pepper hauls it from the wall. 

“I have to-.” Steve says and she waves at him.

“Go, Captain, thank you Captain,” Pepper says but her focus is on Tony who’s dropped off into unconsciousness. He hesitates only a moment, because he wants to know that Tony will be okay, but his duty is in the cockpit.

He races down the short passageway toward the bow of the ship and command center. Bruce is there.

Bruce still clutches the bag and says, “Not sure I know exactly what he planned.”

Clint struggles off his quiver and hooks it on the back of his chair as he settles into the navigator’s seat. “Doesn’t matter, we don’t have the time for you to do anything with them anyway. We got several station guard ships on our tail.”

“Bucky?” Steve says with a tap to his ear.

“Already in the pod, Steve, I got ‘em.”

He hates for Bucky to be so vulnerable in the pod, but they have no other choice. Seems his life has been without choice for a long time now. He turns his attention back to the task at hand and that’s getting away from the station and free of orbit. It also means they have to make a jump. 

Bruce juggles the bag of parts and Steve glares at him. “Do something, we need a hyper jump now.”

Exhaling, Bruce nods and disappears down the corridor. Steve watches as both Clint and Natasha fight with the controls of the ship. 

“We have a dozen station guard ships on us, Cap, we are not getting out of this one without a jump,” Natasha states.

He hails Pepper. “Ms Potts, can you tell me if Tony is awake and able to work on the engine.” He presses his lips together, and squints, everything seems too harsh, too hard. His head pounds from the thwack to the head he took.

A few minutes later Pepper is linked in through the access point in Tony’s quarters. “I’m sorry, Captain, but he’s not conscious, and I’m not sure even if I was able to wake him he’d be able to help out. He’s hurt-.”

“Understood,” he says and cuts her off. He hates being rude, but he has more important things on his mind right now than the feelings of a Courtesan’s assistant. He chides himself. “Bucky, do you have them in your crosshairs.”

“Got ‘em, Cap, but it’s gonna be rough.”

With that pronouncement the ship rocks nearly careening out of Natasha’s control as a volley of fire impacts on the hull. He grabs onto the ship’s frame to steady himself. A blast from the Commando announces Bucky’s return fire and the windscreen dances with flashes and flares.

“Calculate a jump to the nearest Rim world,” Steve says to Clint.

“I don’t know if it’s possible, we’re too far out and I’m not sure the computer can handle it.” His fingers fly over the panel. “The engine isn’t able to work; it’ll be for naught anyway.”

Steve hangs over him and hits the switch. “Bruce give me good news?”

“I’m sorry, Steve, but there really isn’t any.”

The ship screams in retort to a blast slamming against the forward hull. Sparks erupt along the side console panel and tiny licks of flame consume it. Steve springs to fire extinguisher and jerks it from the notch in the wall. He engages it and sprays the fire before it takes hold. The smell of burnt circuitry and ozone lingers. 

Without pause, he hits the comm again on the console near Clint and says, “I need a damned jump, Bruce. Something.”

“Trying, I am trying,” Bruce snarls back.

Bucky howls in the comm and announces he’s got one but then the whole ship shudders as a round of unrelenting fire pummels the outer hull. 

“We have hull integrity at fifty-three percent, attempting to repair,” Natasha says and flicks another sequence into the computer.

“Tell me we can jump, Bruce,” Steve snaps into the comm.

A cry from Bucky startles everyone and Steve hits the frequency for the sniper’s pod. “Bucky? Bucky?”

“Pull me in, God damn it, pull the pod back in.”

Steve nods to Natasha as she tears over the command switches and the sniper’s pod which isn’t tucked in safe against the Commando’s hull like the gunner’s pod, swing back into its nest against the ship. Steve itches to go and find out if Bucky is hurt, but he can’t leave the comm.

Against this worry, Bruce yells into the communication. “I short circuited the computer to allow us to jump. I can’t promise we won’t end up in the middle of a star or in a black hole. But we can jump.”

“Clint?” Steve says as Hawkeye flies through the calculations. “Give me, give me.”

He hands the pad over to Steve and, as Steve quickly checks the figures he can see they aren’t perfect – not even close. It will probably swing them too wide of the mark and the dimensional jump could kill everyone on board. As he considers the insane plan the ship jolts and sputters against another assault.

“Do it,” Steve says and hands back the pad to Clint.

“Are you sure, we might-.”

“Punch it,” Steve says and Clint slams the panel with the heel of his hand.

The ship skips into hyper dimensionality and Steve holds his breath, hoping they’ll come out the other side and he can take another breath.


	10. Chapter 10

Braced against the cockpit’s window array, Steve stares out into the bleak darkness of space. He used to dream of space; of riding high like all of his heroes in the vids they would steal a glimpse at through the shops. He used to dream of being the captain of his own ship, running the Rims, out to the Farther Worlds, then in tight to the center toward the Inner Belts. It had been a dream, a fantasy. 

It had never been like this, not black and cold and ice. He shivers and closes his eyes, but it just reminds him of what beckons outside the ship. The cold dark of space calls to him. He wonders if he should answer. He remembers the ice how it binds and scalds. The first touch of ice is dry and numb, but as it settles in, as it creeps and seeps into the hollowed out places in the bones, it burns. Not like fire, but startles nerves to flames of cold vibrancy. He cannot explain it any other way; he never could, not when the Feds and the SHIELD therapists tried to make him talk about it. He could only tell them his nerves throbbed with the cold. They would sit and stare and wait for him to come to his senses. He supposes he never did.

For as he looks out into the expansive darkness with its foreign stars he realizes how very lost they are. The jump worked, they flung the ship into hyper dimensionality and it answered them, skipping and sputtering and finally depositing them, here.

“Wherever here is,” he murmurs as he stares out the windows of the cockpit. 

Lost.

The jump worked, no doubts about that at all. The bypass of the hyper jump circuits – he cannot even think about it. Bruce won’t come out of the Engine room as he tries to fix what’s happened, but there’s no fixing it. They need expertise that Bruce doesn’t have, they need Tony.

And Tony-. He can’t even think, can’t even wrestle with what happened with Tony.

“Stop blaming yourself.”

Steve glances over his shoulder and sees Natasha standing in the light of the passageway near the hatch to the cockpit. It must be the morning rotation. He never slept last night, he can’t remember the last time he slept – or ate. They have to ration everything, if they’re going to get out of this, get out of here.

He turns back to the bleak blackness. And tries not to listen to her, but Natasha has a way with her voice that pulls people to listen to her. 

“You did what had to be done, you always do,” Natasha says as she moves into the small cockpit. This is her domain as the pilot. He always feels a little out of sorts when she claims the space, as if they are vying for mastery of the ship. 

“You know that’s not true,” Steve says and he hears an echo with his memories. Squeezing his eyes closed, he tries to find solace in the seclusion, but there is none. He opens his eyes and turns to face her.

“You need to stop this, stop hiding.”

“I’m not hiding, I’m considering.”

“Throwing yourself out an airlock is not an option.”

He sighs. “I didn’t think it was.” He consumes more than any four of them combined ecept for maybe Thor. He’s a liability right now. “But maybe-.”

“Stop,” she says and takes her place next to him at the window array. “This isn’t about you. This is about the ship.”

“I know that,” he replies. He closes his eyes for a moment, again, and weighs what he can say. He’s not sure there’s anything to say. The situation is dire, even if they can get the ship moving again, the problem is they don’t know where to move to, because they have no idea where they are.

“Pepper says Stark is feeling better,” she counters with and tilts her head. She must have been talking with Bucky again, he can feel her eyes bore into him as she tries to measure what Tony is to him. If she figures it out, maybe she’ll tell Steve – it would be nice for someone to sort out his feelings.

“Good, maybe that might help out with the engine.” He nods and keeps his distance with his response. A slight release of tension warms through him. Tony has been in a daze from the concussion, the drugs, and the injuries. While Bruce reported the concussion to be mild, he also noted that the slavers drugged Tony and the toxicology of the drug had poisonous side effects. He spent the better portion of the last few days sick and feverish, plus his other wounds exacerbated his condition. Bruce traded his time between the engine, the computer, and Tony. Pepper volunteered to be Tony’s nurse, and the rest of the crew lurked around, but didn’t bother him as he convalesced. Steve felt cut off, distant, and anxious. 

Once he interrupted Pepper as she wiped Tony’s brow; he’d only just meant to check on them. Tony had been delirious, spouting things like _metal alloy_ , _Jarvis_ , _palladium poisoning_. At the last one, Pepper patted Tony’s arm and told him, no, the palladium was gone, he’s safe now, not dying. Watching them together nearly broke him, and he quickly begged off and disappeared to the racks where he lie awake staring at the bunk above his head and fearing the lasting darkness.

Instead of finding rest, he had focused on maintaining some order on the ship. Thor thumped around the place yelling about his brother while they locked Loki up in the engine storage unit. From what he understands, Loki left Thor and Tony to find the Blessed Station’s communications array – he sent some message out, and he’s not saying what.

“Not going to help us much with where we are,” Natasha states and glances out into the deep of the stars. 

Here, it is like being in the ocean, down in the darkest parts where there is no light, no reference point. He can’t use the navigational computer like he could on any other ship to figure out where they are since it’s been fried for ages. Part of Bruce’s time has been devoted to trying to fix it, but it is a lost cause and what little they have been able to access is nearly useless. At the very least, they’ve been able to scan the stars to try and get a location fix. But they’ve failed with any reference points.

“We’ll find a way,” Steve says, even though he doesn’t believe it, not really. He’s already directed the rationing to compensate for a long haul. He shrugs internally – he supposes that it doesn’t matter if they can’t find their way back. He turns his attention to the routine. “How’s Bucky?”

“Still a little fried. But thankfully, most of the fire in the pod was on his left side. So the metal arm took the brunt of it.” She shrugs. “It’ll need a shine or two, but he’s good.”

Steve nods, and tries not to think of seeing Bucky stumbling from the pod, charred and coughing. It took hours before Bucky could breathe normally again, and they didn’t even have any oxygen in their medical supplies. 

“Buck and I looked that the data stream from the call Stark made to Rhodes.”

“And?”

“Weird, not a lot of information. He encrypted it. But we did glean a bit of information. Stark’s to be presented to the Main Chamber. Rhodes is going to be there.”

“The Main Chamber, you mean the big wigs? Tony’s sponsor is one of the big wigs?” Steve looks into the hull of the ship as if he might catch a glimpse of the Courtesan.

“Seems to be, but here’s the kicker,” Natasha leans in close and says. “He referred to you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, the message was garbled and we’re still trying to get it cleaned up, but it looks like Stark plans to use you for something,” Natasha says.

“That doesn’t sound right, he’s a Courtesan.”

She flicks her eyes to the passageway and then back to Steve. “Maybe.”

When she leaves, the cold seeps into Steve’s bones and he shivers it away. The whole future thing is a disaster. He wasn’t kidding when he told Tony he wishes he never woke up sometimes. The future he fought for is dead and gone. No use for the patriotic songs, the allegiance to long dead Constitutions. Now, the present is all about the Corporations, and the mighty credit stream. 

There’s one thing he doesn’t know about this whole commission – the actual name of Tony’s sponsor. It had been redacted on all of the commission information and logistics. One of the big wigs might be Tony’s sponsor, so given that, he has to find out which one so that he knows what the heck Tony plans to do and why.

Clint passes into the cockpit to take point and watch the ship as Steve nods and leaves. He wants to check out the status of the ship as well as figure out if they can ever leave this forsaken area of space. He can’t even contact SHIELD for assistance since they are outside of the communications range that bounce off of Way Stations and other Stations to magnify signals. Even so, he could use the hyper dimensionality communication route, if that worked, and it doesn’t, just like everything else on the ship.

As he walks through the ship’s innards he finds his way toward Tony’s quarters. He really shouldn’t be here, but something about the man – even with the mystery – lures him. Sighing, he knocks and calls out at the same time because it is fairly difficult to hear through the thick metal doors.

The locking mechanism twists and the door swings open. Pepper smiles at him and offers him entrance. He thanks her and steps over the hatch. She looks tired and worn thin. She probably hasn’t slept much over the intervening days as she’s taken care of Tony most of the time.

“If you want, I could sit with him.”

She hesitates as if she might turn him down.

“Go, rest, I can sit here with him and do some work,” he says and pats his pocket where he keeps a small pad to do busy work on the ship.

“Okay, I’ll only be gone for a few hours.”

“That’s fine, Pepper, take your time.”

Before she leaves, she studies him. “You know he has a lot of faith in you.”

“Not sure why, ma’am, I’m just a captain of a cargo ship.”

“He knows your story,” she says as she turns kind eyes to the sleeping figure in the bed. Tony looks better today. Color returns to his cheeks and, when he sleeps, he doesn’t look as haunted. “He might not want to admit it, but Tony likes heroes.”

He laughs a bit, but it isn’t disrespectful. “Heroes are imaginary.”

“Not to Tony,” Pepper says. “He believes in you, so you better live up to your legend.”

It sounds like a half threat but Steve decides not to take it that way. “Good rest, ma’am.” He settles down in the chair she vacated as he bids her good bye.

She pauses again but then decides to leave it be – for now. He can read that in her eyes. She departs and closes the hatch door. He peers over at Tony who is curled into a ball sleeping on his side. He looks young when he sleeps, and Steve frowns; he’s not sure he even knows how old Tony is. But like this, against the pillow with the lines of worry and pain faded, his natural beauty shines. 

Steve reaches out as if to brush away the tumble of hair that’s near his brow, but pulls back and chastises himself. As a distraction, he turns back to the pad he has stuffed in his pocket and pulls it out. He goes through the simple logistics of their routines, ignoring the fact – for the most part- that they are stuck in the middle of nowhere. He assigns duties but then has to decide what to do about Loki. Right now, he has Bucky standing guard most of the time, switching off with him. At some point, Steve is going to collapse from the lack of sleep and he knows it. The serum allows him to go for longer periods of time without sleep, but his body still requires sleep. 

He puts on his list a discussion with Thor regarding Loki. He’ll have to interrogate Loki – he has no other choice. He hates to harm his relationship with Thor. When he woke up and everything seemed like a nightmare wrapped in a delusion, Thor had been one of the few around him who felt like an outsider as well. They worked well together as friends because things astounded them in equal measure. 

A quiet groan from the bed brings his attention back to Tony. He rolls over and winces as he opens his eyes. Throwing an arm over his face he whines, “Pep, my center of the universe, the lights.”

“Hmm? Lights?”

“Why Grandma what a deep voice you have,” Tony says and squints at Steve as he dials down the lighting in the room.

“Sorry to disappoint you, I sent Ms. Potts to get some rest.”

“Oh Captain,” Tony says and struggles to sit up. Steve can see he’s still hurting but he’s making a show of it that he’s on the mend. “It is never a disappointment to see you.” It feels awkward but Steve pushes past it and helps Tony to sit up and adjusts the blankets. “Thank you, Captain.”

“How are you feeling?” Steve feels too big like he’s out grown his jacket and it binds him.

“Better, that Doctor Banner there is a man of many talents. Perhaps he shouldn’t dabble so much and concentrate on one,” Tony says and stretches for the covered cup of water.

“He did that once, he used to work as a scientist in the Inner Belts,” Steve says and accepts the cup as Tony tries to place it back in its holder on the side of the bed.

“Didn’t work out?”

“They wanted him to do unethical experiments,” Steve says and notches the cup in its holder. “Ended up pretty bad for him. He’s still recovering.”

“Unethical, that’s a surprise,” Tony says and sarcasm laces his words. “Maybe Brucie-bear and I have a lot in common.”

Steve furrows his brows but doesn’t quiz Tony on that comment. “Would you like to try something to eat?”

Tony considers his question and then says, “Does it mean you have to leave?”

“Well, we don’t have service bots on this boat, so, yeah, it means I have to prepare something for you.”

Tony sits up straighter in the bed, though it costs him with a flinch of his brow. “Do I get a kiss before you leave?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What would you like?” Steve says and heads to the door.

“Surprise me, Captain my Captain.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head but smiles nonetheless. It is hard not to smile when Tony looks at him. He knows it is the Courtesan’s duty and responsibility to make people feel wanted and desired, but he’s fairly certain Tony has a preternatural ability at it. He leaves the quarters and rolls his shoulders s few time to get his bearings. He shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, the ideas that swim through his head. Just the small blessing to help Tony with the blankets about undid him.

As he enters the kitchen area, he comes upon Thor – who is crouched over the table, making it look like a child’s toy – hovering over his mug.

“Steven,” Thor says.

Steve indicates a greeting with a quick head nod and then searches for something that might be appropriate to feed a man with a mild concussion and poisoning. He digs through the storage cupboards and then the freezer until he finds a homemade soup Bruce concocted a while back when Clint had some weird flu. It did the trick then, perhaps it is a winner now.

“May I speak with you, Steven?” Thor says and he’s shadowing Steve about the small working kitchen area. Steve hadn’t thought anyone could make him feel small anymore, but once again he’s surprised.

“We already discussed this, until Loki comes clean on what he was doing at the communications array, and why he left Tony high and dry, I can’t see letting him walk around free on the ship.” He stirs the soup as it cooks.

“My brother is troubled. He does not know his place in this universe now that we know his true parentage. I beg you to offer him leniency.” Thor’s expression is a ruin of conflicted emotion.

Steve turns toward him, leaning against the stovetop. “Thor, truly, think about it. If I was with you in the Realms-.”

“They would never have fallen!”

Steve raises his hands to ward him off, and to simmer his enthusiasm down. “Okay, down cowboy. I’m just saying that if someone on my crew abandoned one of your people and they were harmed because of it, how would you handle the situation?”

Thor’s bright smile dims and he shakes his head. “You ask me a difficult question, Steven. I would ask you for leniency that I might not give in the same situation. He is all I have left in all of the Realms.”

Steve relents and knows it is wrong, but he understands the feeling of loneliness, of complete need to hang on to the little you have. “We can interrogate him together, and then I’ll make a decision.”

“Thank you, Steven, it is much appreciated.” He tilts his head and says, “Are you truly wanting the soup to spill over the stove top like that?”

“Wh-what?” He spins around and sees the soup boiling over. “Damn it.” Switching it off, he pulls the pan from the stove. As he cleans up, Thor bids him farewell and leaves. Steve manages to tidy up and get the soup in a bowl with some bread and a small cup of water. They have to ration and he stares down at the food as a wave of hunger tightens in his belly. He forces it down and steadies himself. Right now, the crew and his passengers take priority.

Bringing the tray back to Tony’s quarters, he balances it with one hand and unlocks the door and pushes it open with the other. When he enters he finds Tony with the glowing thing – he called it the arc reactor – in his hands and he has it opened.

“Are you? Is that okay?” Steve gestures with the entire tray as he points to the reactor and the gaping hole in Tony’s chest.

“Hmm, what? Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tony says and snaps the arc reactor back in place. “When those goons were beating on me, they tried to take it out. I had to replace the security protocols and Jarvis was giving me a hand.” 

Steve frowns because there’s no one else in the room. He places the tray on the edge of the bed since there really isn’t a table close to the bed for Tony to use. 

“It’s homemade,” Steve says and waits as Tony closes down his two pads he had opened on the bed. 

“You shouldn’t have,” Tony says and makes grabby hands at the tray.

“I didn’t. Bruce made it a few months back when Clint came down with a strange flu.” He adjusts the legs on the collapsible tray and sets it over Tony’s lap. “There were boils.”

“Ew,” Tony says and grimaces. Steve laughs. “Really, trying to eat here.”

“Do you feel any better?” Steve sits down in the chair again and folds his hands in front of him. 

“Yeah, the drug they gave me must be through my system. Bruce said no cracked ribs.”

“Bruised only, and the burns?” Steve waves to Tony’s back.

“Sting like a son of a bitch,” Tony says as he blows on the soup. 

Steve finds himself staring, watching Tony’s lips, his eyes, the muscular shape of his biceps as it flows into his shoulder. Surely, this is all Steve’s doing, Tony is just eating – it has nothing to do with the allure of being a Courtesan. He stares at the flooring instead.

“It’s good,” Tony mentions. “Something crawling on the floor, there, Captain?”

“Oh, no, what?” Steve glances back up at Tony and needs to inhale once before answering. “Nothing, just worried about the ship.”

“Ship?”

“We’re kind of dead in the water,” Steve says.

“Dead?”

“Yeah, we did the last jump blind-.”

“Holy shit, you have more balls than I gave you credit for,” Tony says and wipes his hands on the napkin. He’s completely consumed the soup in a little less than five minutes. He dabs at his beard. “So, where are we?”

“Oh, that’s another thing. We’re also lost, so I think you might be late for you-.”

“I am not going to be late for my sponsor, no fucking way,” Tony says and lifts up the tray to set it aside. He slides out of the covers and hangs his bare feet over the bed. He wavers ever so slightly on the bed and Steve jumps up to grasps his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Tony rubs a hand down his face and grunts a bit. “Maybe, probably not, could be I’m dying.”

“What?” 

“Not dying, not this time, but the after effects of that drug and the burns ain’t a good mix, my dear Captain,” Tony says and leans down on his knees, breathing heavily.

Steve glimpses the marks on Tony’s back, the skin wilts in red angry burns mixed with the blue and black bruising along his torso. He scans the room and finds the little first aid kit Bruce brought into the quarters. 

He gets up and searches through it. Finding the pain reliever and the burn ointment he says, “There’s pain relievers and some ointment for the burns.”

“No on the pain pills, I need my brains about me,” Tony says without looking up. “Yes on the ointment. Hit me with it, Captain.”

Steve glances at the tube in his hands and then at Tony’s bare back. Tony’s only wearing a pair of loose fitting sleeping pants that are probably silk. He cringes a little inside, but admits that he would like to touch Tony, to lay his hand along the sleek muscles and massage the warm flesh.

“Captain?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Steve says and steps over to Tony. He stands over him, thinking about how he wants to deal with it.

“Sit down on the bed, I’ll turn my back to you,” Tony says.

He settles near to Tony; feeling the heat of Tony ratchets up Steve’s desire, the want, and Steve feels like a freak. The man is hurt, he shouldn’t be longing, should only be thinking about his passenger’s welfare. He focuses on the tube, squeezes out some of the ointment and tentatively touches his fingers with the cream on Tony’s back.

Tony hisses. “That’s cold.”

“Sorry, my hands are -.”

“The ointment, your hands are fine, very nice. You do a good job.”

Steve works the lotion into the wounds, they are healing well, even if they look purpled with anger. But he concentrates on his task, though he memorizes the smoothness of Tony’s skin, the curve and muscles, the fibers of power and lean strength. He caresses along his flank where a electrical burn rod must have been held for long seconds. He’s careful, but also uses a certain amount of strength to massage the abused muscles and skin. 

Tony leans back into the strokes and says, “You’re a natural, Captain.”

“Learn to take care of your troop in the field,” Steve murmurs but, other than that, he keeps silent because he wants to relish and cherish the feel of Tony against his hands. He may never get to touch him again, not skin against skin, and the glide of it sends thrills to silent places in his heart.

After quiet minutes, with Tony allowing Steve to ply him and work the ointment into the burns, Tony says, “You said we were lost, Captain?”

“Yes, pretty much. We had to make the jump with a not so functional hyper drive and questionable calculations.” Steve knows he’s stretching it out and he needs to stop, so he finishes and closes up the tube. He stands and gets a towelette from the dispenser in Tony’s private bath. Wiping his hands, he comes back in the room to find Tony pulling a tank top over his head. He winces as he does it.

“Can you let me see the info?” Tony says.

Shrugging, Steve pulls out his pad and calls up the data. “Here.”

It takes a few minutes more and Tony whistles. “Wow, you really did jump blind.”

“Didn’t have a lot of choice, they were hounding us good.”

Tony taps a few times on the screen, and then reaches over to pull out his pads. “Can you get rid of the tray?”

“Oh, sure,” Steve says and grabs it from the bed. “I’ll bring this back to the kitchen. Are you all right, then?”

“Come back, I’ll have a surprise for you.” 

Steve gazes at Tony for a moment, one knee notched on the bed, the other leg hanging off, the pads spread out on the linens and his sparkling smile beckoning him. He has no other choice but to agree.

“Just let me clean up the dishes.”

“You do that,” Tony says and waves without looking up from the tablets. Steve smiles at him and realizes as he leaves the quarters that his expression, the feeling is not just friendly but kind and soft and burning bright. 

It takes him just minutes to clean up and put everything away. He’s anxious to get back to Tony’s quarters and, at the same time, hopes that Pepper is going to stay where ever she is right now. He wants this time with Tony, if he has to be honest with himself – and Steve is very rarely not – he wants to spend time with Tony, he’s attracted to Tony whether or not it might be some kind of foolish Courtesan designed meddling with his heart. He can take it, he’s a grown man.

He tries not to think of the fact they found out that Tony’s going to be given to the whole of the Main Chamber. He met those people once, and he never wants to see them again. He stems the revulsion, Tony knows what he’s getting into, and he’s been a Courtesan for some time now. Before he leaves the galley, he opens up the cupboard and finds the Scotch. He rarely imbibes but he thinks Tony might welcome it since he’s steering clear of pain meds.

Tucking the Scotch bottle under his arm, he heads back to Tony’s quarters. He doesn’t realize how nervous he is until he knocks on the door and calls out. 

“Come in,” Tony yells from inside.

Steve twists open the lever and opens the door. Sitting on the floor with the bed slid back in its place in the wall, Tony pats the floor next to him. “Sit, dear Captain.”

“I would think, maybe, you should still be in bed?”

“This’ll be much better with an unobstructed view.” Tony pats the place next to him again, he’s sitting cross-legged and has the pads in front of him within arm’s length. 

Steve considers him and, while he has no idea what Tony is talking about, he still wants to treasure every moment he can – sitting next to him allows him to do this. But then it is dangerous territory, he’s setting himself up for a fall and he should just back away.

“Come, Captain, I’m going to save your ass and the entire crew’s ass, asses? Whatever, come on, now,” Tony says.

He holds up the bottle. “I brought Scotch.” 

Tony grins and says, “A man after my own heart.”

Steve retrieves the small plastic cups from the bathroom. He surrenders to his illogical feelings and takes his place next to Tony. Pouring the alcohol into two small clear cups, he caps the bottle and sets it to the side. They both sip the drink and Tony smiles again. It is worth the effort for just the smile.

“Now, behold.” Tony taps the pads – he’s even enlisted Steve’s pad although the same program doesn’t pop up. “Jarvis, if you will?”

“Yes, sir, projecting.”

“What the hell? Is that your pad? I know some of them talk-.”

“Calm yourself, yes, some pads talk, but not like Jarvis – those things are ridiculous toys for children. Jarvis is full on AI.”

“I thought AI’s were illegal,” Steve says.

“Well, they are – most are.” Tony only grins. “Sometimes, by the way all caps here – JARVIS say hello to Captain Rogers.”

“Hello, Captain Rogers, it is nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you too, why does he talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Accent?”

Tony lifts his shoulders. “I like old things. Old British accents are interesting.”

“You like old things?”

Tony smiles and winks a little with a lick of his lips. “Sure do, Captain.”

“Sir, would you like me to project now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says as his attention is torn away from Steve. He struggles to stand up, but Steve places a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you need?”

“Lights out,” Tony says and falls back down with a quiet heave.

Steve presses his lips together and tries not to let the words worm their way into his self-doubts. He hits the lights and the room plummets into absolute darkness. 

“Captain?” Tony says and the glow of his arc reactor leads Steve back to base. He finds his place next to Tony again and waits. “Here we go. Now, I caution you this is not the full effect. I don’t have the right equipment, but I’m using two pads and your pad is feeding mine information on the surroundings outside the ship. So, JARVIS, please?”

Abruptly the light punctuates the darkness, a thousand stars fall and cascade around them like a splash of waterfall. It is exhilarating and breathtaking all at once. He marvels at it and finds his mouth slack jawed as he gapes. 

“What, what is this?”

“This, my dear Captain, is where we are.” Tony reaches out over the pad and flicks his hand. The stars shift and realign in almost dizzying speeds. “Slow it down, J man otherwise I am going to puke all over our good Captain and that’ll ruin my reputation and won’t impress him much.”

“This is beautiful, Tony.” He leans back to watch the stars glitter around him. Yes, he’s seen the stars before, he’s been in the sniper pod that hangs like a pendulum from the belly of the ship and the surrounding stars can be intimidating. But this, this is unlike what he’s seen before. It feels like he’s in the middle of the universe and the whole of it lays out for his taking. 

“Nice,” Tony smiles and says, “This isn’t even the full effect, remember that Captain. Maybe someday, you’ll see it on my ship.”

“Your? You have a ship?”

Tony tilts his head and shakes it. “Well, Happy’s using it right now, and mostly, it isn’t for my personal use.” He turns back to the stars before him. “Now, Captain, let’s find out where we are.”

He reaches out and slides the stars and moves them in different degrees. He asks JARVIS about comparisons and distances until Steve is giddy with the starscape about him and overwhelmed with his fascination of the man before him.

“I think, we might be in this sector.” Tony grabs for a cube of space, brushes the rest away and it fizzles out in the background. He sets the cube in the air over the pad and says, “Expand, JARVIS.”

It explodes outward, and Steve hitches a breath as the stars stream and streak ahead of him like fireworks. “Wow.”

“You like?” Tony laughs and it is a joyous and beautiful as it charms and beguiles.

Steve glances down at Tony and says, “Yeah, yeah, I like.”

“Then maybe, just maybe you’ll like this more,” Tony says and cups his hand along the line of Steve’s jaw, when Steve doesn’t pull away, Tony moves forward. Their lips press together, and they fit –perfectly, wonderfully. It works this touch of grace and Steve has no quarrel with himself as he raises his hands and wraps his arms around Tony, careful of his wounds. 

He releases his defenses and pursues and allows himself to be pursued, in fact, he invites it. The taste of Tony, the feel of his weight against Steve, the breath against his mouth, the rawness of his beard mingles together in a charged moment of pure abandoned, pure bliss. He knows this cannot last, Tony is promised, Tony is a Courtesan. But what he can have, he’ll take, because he’s seen Tony’s strength, his power, his courage, his determination, his intelligence. It is everything he’s wished for, it is everything he so desperately desires in this new age.

He’ll take this little piece of heaven, this little slice of wonderment, because he’s a kid from the Rims with nothing to his name but a debt to the Feds. This is as close to perfection he’ll ever get.

Tony pulls away first, panting a bit but smiling all the same.

“I think, good Captain, I know exactly where we are.”

“So do I.” Steve ducks in again for another kiss, but Tony places a finger against his lips.

“Oh, Captain, you tempt me. You will corrupt me. But no, not this.”

“Oh, oh,” Steve says and is suddenly embarrassed and ashamed. He sits away from Tony, keeping his hands to himself. “You know where we are?” It hits him then, they might not be lost, Tony will save them, him. It hurts all the more to know he cannot have Tony. “You know where we are?”

“Pretty sure I do,” Tony says and spins the stars around, turns it, and he punches out a small area. “Just outside the Chrome Domes.”

“The biggest Way Station there is? Are you sure?” Steve says as his attention is driven to the star map projected above him.

“We’re a ways outside it. But it might take a jump and then some drift time in, but yeah I’m pretty certain we’re just outside the area.” 

“Ah, a jump, well we can’t do-.”

“Ye have little faith,” Tony says. “I’ll fix that up in a jiffy, just help me up.”

Reluctant to end his little fantasy, Steve lets out a breath and nods. “Okay, okay.” He stands and reaches down to offer a hand up. Tony takes it and falls forward into him so that Steve has to catch him, he has no other choice. 

Tony runs a hand lightly up and down Steve’s cheek line. “Don’t tempt me, good Captain, I won’t be able to resist you and then where would that leave me?”

Before Steve answers the door opens and Pepper appears. Tony jumps up and says, “Good news, Pep, I figured it out. We’ll be on our way soon.”

Pepper glares at Steve and he opens his mouth to defend himself but Tony stops him. “Don’t be mean to the good old Captain, he’s old you know, respect your elders.” Tony looks around the room and says, “Okay now, where are my pants?”

Steve stutters a bit but Tony does have his sleeping pants on, and Pepper never blinks an eye as Tony shuts down the projection. 

“I’ll just-.” He ventures to the door.

“I’ll meet you in the Engine room, Captain,” Tony says and moves to the bathroom with Pepper’s assistance.

Steve nods and feels the heat of shame color his cheeks again. There’s a special bond between Pepper and Tony, he can see that. It is plain and clear. If Tony had a relationship outside his duties as a Courtesan, then it would be with Pepper, not him. He leaves them with a quick goodbye never looking back at Tony. He finds his way to the nearest head and goes into the stall and locks it. Leaning back against the door he closes his eyes and damns himself. It isn’t just about lust, it isn’t just his body’s needs.

“Damn it, I’m in love.” He slides down the door and cradles his head in his arms. Even as a scrawny kid from the Rims he never felt as helpless and as hopeless as he does now.


	11. Chapter 11

Steve decides the best course of action might be to focus on his duties as Captain of the Howling Commando. He knows he’s been avoiding the whole Loki situation and, therefore, after he informs Bruce that Tony will be joining him in the Engine room, he asks Bucky to bring Loki up to the galley kitchen and dining area so that he can question him about the events on the Blessed Station. 

He tells himself he needs to concentrate on his work and not get all twisted up in some foolish love affair. He lives in a different circle of life than Tony Stark does. He’s a debtor to the Feds with his debt contracted out to SHIELD. Tony Stark was born to the Elite Class; he owns one of the largest Corps even though it’s lost ground under Stane’s leadership. Tony is brilliant, even in the short time Steve’s known him, he can tell that if Tony took the reins of his Corp it would once again attain its former glory. They live in different worlds, Tony is Elite and Steve – well, Steve is only a debtor with nothing to his name – not even the ship he captains.

Getting his head on straight becomes his top priority. He’s an expert tactician and strategist. With a little bit of brains focused on the problem he might be able to shift gears and forget about his current obsession – his current illness. Tony Stark.

After he checks on the status of the rations and the cockpit, Steve finds his way back to the kitchen. Loki and Thor with Bucky as their guard sit around the table. Loki lounges as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, while Thor hunches over the table much like he had when Steve talked to him. Bucky stands to the side, very much in Winter Soldier mode. Sometimes, just seeing him in his black leathers, the dark look on his face, the glower in his expression chills Steve’s spine. 

He acknowledges Bucky and goes to the coffee machine. “Coffee?”

No one responds, so Steve pours a cup for himself. He hasn’t eaten in days and he’s hungrier by the moment. The coffee should curb the worst of it. He adds extra sugar just for the boost and then straddles the chair and considers the two Asgardian brothers. Thor looks thunderous, there’s really no other way to describe it, and Steve clenches his teeth trying not to cave into his friend’s needs. They have to deal with this act and deal with it openly without emotional elements playing into the equation.

When he opens his mouth to begin, Loki beats him to the punch. “The man out of time, Captain Rogers.”

He has no idea why but the words mock and sear him. “Yes, Loki, and I hear some people call you the god of mischief.”

Loki nods and Thor has turned from thunderous to murderous, and Steve wonders who he wants to kill. 

“Some do, some do. I am surprised to think you ascribe to such descriptions.”

“Oh no, not me, I’m pretty sure there’s only one God, and I don’t think he dresses like that,” Steve says and gestures to the long green and black leather coat Loki wears.

Thor interrupts before the conversation deteriorates even further. “Please, Captain, I beg you leniency with my brother.”

“Thor, I am not here to judge or sentence your brother.” 

In the corner, Bucky shifts as if in silent disagreement with Steve.

He ignores his friend and continues, “I just want to know why he did what he did and who he contacted?” Steve folds his hands in his lap, leaving his coffee to cool on the table.

“Loki?” Thor turns to his brother.

Loki smiles and something about it reminds Steve of the vipers near the Ravine’s Edge and that just brings back horrible memories of losing Bucky, his fall, and the cold. He shudders internally and waits for Loki to answer.

“You are not the only one, my dear brother, you cares about Asgard. I, too, have been working fiercely to gather information from some of my networks for our use.”

“Your networks?” Steve asks and queries Thor wordlessly. 

“My brother is known to have, in the past, come into contact with those of the unsavory type.” 

“Who may be of use to us,” Loki says and glares at Thor.

“We have discussed this in the past, brother, I will not sully our beloved Asgard with your connections.”

“The Chitauri-.”

“Are not the way out of our predicament. I will not sell our souls to those monsters,” Thor says.

“Just who are the Chitauri?” Steve asks leaning into their tight circle.

Loki pushes away then, separating from them, isolating himself. “Who are the Chitauri? Truly, Captain, you are out of step with the times, aren’t you? Have you asked your esteemed Courtesan?”

“Tony? Why would I ask him about these Chitauri?” Steve says. Loki smiles and it is a curve of the lips that devours Steve’s confidence in Tony. “I don’t follow you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe things should have been left well enough alone, as they say.”

Steve glances at Thor for guidance but receives only a shrug and a look of puzzlement. Yet, Thor must feel compelled to help Steve because he says, “Enough Loki of your obfuscation, explain yourself?”

“The Chitauri possess a way through space-time that is even more powerful than the bifrost, my brother,” Loki snickers as he considers Steve. “You, my good man out of time, have already encountered its power.”

He furrows his brows and, as he studies Loki, he hears his heart throbbing a beat in his ears. It off-balances him. “What do you mean?”

“Ask your fine Courtesan, he’ll know of what I speak.”

Steve releases a held breath and rolls his eyes. He’s tired of the mind-games. “Okay, let’s move on shall we?” He studies Loki – the man or god or whatever he is doesn’t look repentant at all. “You left Tony without any form of protection. I thought you understood that Tony Stark happens to be a renowned Courtesan in Human Space and leaving him in the midst of a slave station without any protection wouldn’t be the best choice.” He hears the sarcasm in his voice, but he can’t stop himself.

“I assure you, Captain, he should have been safe. I know not why the illusion fell away. It may have been the interference by his electromagnetic disc in his chest. Perhaps he fiddled with it.”

“Fiddled? Fiddled with it?” Steve says and he restrains the urge to leap across the table and beat the man/demigod/god person across from him. “How exactly would that work?” He’s not a fool and he refuses to let someone who thinks he’s superior treat him like one.

Before Loki answers, Natasha, with Clint trailing behind her, strides into the room. She looks like she could murder someone too, and he thinks maybe she and Thor should start a club or something. He rubs at his temples. Maybe he should eat something.

“Captain,” Natasha says but regards Thor and Loki with a bit more caution than he would have guessed. She shares a look with Bucky.

“Problem?” he asks as he peers over his shoulder.

“Stark just said we’ll be jumping to the Chromes. Is that true?”

Thor stands up. “The Chromes, where is this? Is it close to the Inner Belts?”

Shaking his head in reply, Steve pushes away from the table, disappointed that his coffee’s gone cold and he’s never even tasted it. “If he’s able to fix-.”

“He just fixed the drive. I was down there while he and Bruce did the repair. He’s brilliant; I’ll give you that, also quite the narcissist.”

“That’s all part of the job,” Tony says as he walks into the kitchen wiping his hands on an old rag. He looks insanely tired like he might fall over but his eyes are bright with a glint of sheer joy. It is obvious the man loves engineering. “I wouldn’t be much of a Courtesan if I didn’t love myself, first and foremost.”

“I’m not too certain that’s correct,” Natasha says with a lifted brow. “But it’s true; we’re close enough to jump to the Chromes.”

“According to Tony’s calculations,” Steve says because he has no other way to explain how Tony figured it out. “We’re close enough to make a jump to the Chrome Domes Station and drift in from there. It’ll take a bit-.”

“Should be able to do it as soon as you’re ready. You and your criminal contingency.” Tony points to Loki. 

“Be careful of whom you speak, he is my brother,” Thor replies, his look this side of menacing.

“He also left me to slavers,” Tony says and glowers at Thor.

“And you, Courtesan, are you so innocent in all of this?”

Tony cocks his head at Loki and narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“No, you wouldn’t, would you? But possibly, your father might?”

Tony snarls his upper lip at Loki and looks about to pounce.

“Enough,” Steve says and feels the tension of the last few weeks crawl up his spine, prickling as if the barbs are piercing his back again. He rotates his shoulders and says, “The Chromes is off track, we could jump there and then try for another jump right away.”

“We need the supplies,” Natasha points out. “Plus, they got the Pilot Runs going on. Hawk and I need to get our recerts done. We could try and get it done this year at the Runs rather than tacking it onto the log at the last minute.”

Natasha is right, of course. Every year she and Clint need to recertify their licenses with the Pilot Guild. As a navigator, Clint can usually get his via long distance testing, but, as the pilot, Natasha needs to participate in a full blown pilot’s race once a year. Usually SHIELD has to pay through the nose to get one set up because she always misses the planned races with their schedules and off the beaten track routes. It adds up to his cumulative debt, because Steve never allows her to take on the debt. He’s the Captain, and he always schedules their routes, so it is his fault when she can’t do the recerts on time.

“Chromes is nice this time of year. With the Runs being staged, lots of action,” Tony says as if that might entice Steve. It only turns around in his belly like a cold lump. 

He glances over at Thor and Loki; he still hasn’t a clue as to what to do with the slippery brother of his friend. The words Loki spoke turn around in his brain like poison added to the pot. They slowly simmer and disperse into every nerve ending until when he looks at Tony; he has more doubts and questions. He clears his head and thinks about the task at hand. They’ve been underway now for weeks and they need the supplies. He could force the issue and push them toward their next targeted settlement, but the idea of seeing the races in person as well as some rest and relaxation tempts him.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says and waves the celebration off as everyone even Thor seems jubilant over the idea of hanging out at one of the largest Way Station in Human Space and seeing the spectacle of the Pilot Runs.

“Cap?” Bucky says and his tone quiets everyone, because he’s not the friendly Bucky at the moment, but the cold Winter Soldier. “You want me to bring him back to the storage closet?”

Steve releases a heavy breath and looks at Thor, who is hopeful and earnest. Loki is the only person left for Thor – and Steve understands how terrible it can feel to be left without attachments, to be left all alone. And then he’s gazing at Bucky without even knowing he’s shifted his attention. Bucky who’d been the one friend he’d lost, stands there a symbol of sympathy and understanding. 

“No,” Steve says.

Thor smiles and grabs Steve’s shoulder, pressing a little too hard. “I am eternally grateful to you, Steven. You have proven to be a mighty and honorable ally of Asgard.” Bucky isn’t pleased.

Steve grimaces as Thor steps away to clap his brother on the back. He adds, “No more funny stuff.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

He’s not certain he likes the response but he has no quarrel with it, truly. He moves away as Natasha and Bucky huddle together to plan their visit to the Chromes and the Asgardians leave the small kitchen area. He pours his cup of coffee down the drain and, when he turns, bumps into Tony.

“Hey.”

“Tony.”

“I think I’m going to go and rest for a while,” Tony says and leaves the words hanging for a moment. 

Steve breathes in as if to calm his senses, but it only serves to allow him to perceive the heavy mixture of Tony’s cologne, and sweat, and engine grease which shouldn’t seduce but it becomes a heady fragrance to him. In response to Tony’s statement he only mumbles a reply and turns back to setting his cup for disinfection.

“Hmm, Capiscle, there?”

Being around Tony means he has to confront what Loki said – something about the Chitauri, and Tony’s father. He’s not quite ready to find out what monsters are lurking in the present that were grown from the past’s mistakes. Peering over his shoulder, he raises his eyebrows in question.

“I wanted to talk with you.”

“Talk then,” he says and knows it sounds short and not inviting. He doesn’t want to seem over eager, nor does he want to seem welcoming to Tony’s little game. Distance and indifference are his friends. He tries to feed on the doubts to smother the other thoughts, the other emotions. He cannot be in love with a Courtesan – out of his league is an understatement of epic proportions as Bucky would say (who Steve notes as mysteriously vacated the kitchen like every other member of his crew and passengers).

“I was thinking a little more private.” 

Steve holds his reply and fists his hands. He shouldn’t surrender to it, but he does. He’s the Captain of the ship and if there’s an issue which might warrant privacy – he tells himself – he should permit it. “Okay. I don’t have a lot of time. I have to go over the calculations with Clint.”

Tony smiles, that debonair twist of his mouth, and flips the dirty rag over his shoulder. “Nope, you don’t. Worked on the navigational computer. It should be humming like a charm now.”

“What does that even mean?” Steve says and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back against the counter.

“It means, dear Captain, I have a serious issue that I must discuss with you in privacy, urgently.”

Steve considers Tony, who looks like he’s about to fall over from exhaustion at any moment. His hair sticks up in all directions like he might have electrocuted himself a few times during the repair, and bruises line his eyes. The sooner Steve gets this over with the better, and he might make some points with Tony’s assistant. He likes to keep things positive with his clients, because he never knows when he might need to call in a favor, or two. Plus, there is the off chance he’ll get to fish out what Loki had hinted at about Tony’s father and these mysterious Chitauri.

“Okay, lead the way.”

The grin reappears because Tony thinks he’s gotten his way. He shuffles off to his quarters with Steve follow, yet keeping a respectable distance between them. When Tony unlatches the port door and pushes it in, he waves in a grand gesture for Steve to enter first. He does with a slight exasperated sigh. He’s not going to let his emotions get the best of him. He understands the world now, even if he is – as Loki put it – a man out of time.

Standing in the middle of the guest quarters, Steve notes that Tony still has the bed locked in the wall and looks like he hasn’t actually visited the place since they checked out the stars with Tony’s projections.

Tony kicks the door closed and swings the lever to lock it. Facing Steve, Tony says, “I have a proposition for you, Captain.”

“Not sure I think that’s appropriate.” He moves to the door. He shouldn’t have come here in the first place.

Tony lays on hand on Steve’s bicep, soft like a caress. “Not so fast, Captain. I need to ask you for a favor and you’re the only one outside of Pepper I trust – and she can’t do this for me.”

Steve relaxes a degree. “Shoot.”

“I need someone to accompany me on the Chromes.”

“I don’t-.”

“The races are pretty damned strict about things, rules, standards, that kind of shit. Plus the Chromes isn’t like the Blessed Station or your routine drop on the Rims, this is a major Way Station-.”

“And as a Courtesan you need a chaperone,” Steve says and suppresses a smile. For the first time, he witnesses a glimpse of Tony flush with color. It almost breaks down his resistance, but he fights it and says, “I’m not sure I’m the right person, Bucky might be better suited.”

“As a Courtesan of my level I need to have someone of rank and caliber to accompany me. If my bodyguard can’t be there as my protection and -.”

“Chaperone,” Steve nearly chokes on the word because he’s trying not to laugh.

“Are you going to take this seriously? Because this is my life and, if you don’t, I’ll have to be insulted,” Tony says as he waits for Steve to compose himself. 

It takes a good minute for Steve to suck in his cheeks and stop the need to bend over in laughter. Yet, he realizes he should be complimented that Tony seeks out his assistance. He’s fairly certain other Courtesans would have hired the services of one of the many known police and protective Guilds. To be asked is a high honor.

Steve nods a few times. He knows he will regret his snap decision, but the thought of even spending a few stolen hours with Tony is too good to give up. “Sure, sure, but I’ll need to deal with some of the ship logistics.”

“I got it, not all fun and games then?” Tony says as he moves over to the section of the wall where the bed bolts into the wall. He starts fiddling with the catches and grunts a little when he yanks on the bed to pull it down and it fails to follow his momentum.

Steve steps up and grabs the loops to tug down the bed. He’s about to excuse himself, because it is clear that Tony needs sleep, and he wants to walk away and forget he’s actually been in this bed with Tony at his side. He would like to linger and he uses the idea of finding out about the Chitauri as his mental excuse, even if lying to himself is ridiculous.

“Going already?” Tony sinks onto the bed and rubs at his eyes as Steve grasps the lever to open the door.

“I think that’d be the right thing to do,” Steve says.

Tony considers him and his expression is soft, and somehow sweet, vulnerable, something that Steve didn’t think possible until this moment. “Are you so sure, Captain?”

Steve licks his lips but can’t find any saliva, his mouth is parched. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I think I should.”

Tony slumps against the hull of the ship. “Come by after I sleep?”

Steve frowns in confusion.

“You need a course in your duties as a Courtesan companion.”

“Chaperone,” Steve replies.

“Nope, officially if you are not hired as a body guard or my sponsor, you are considered the companion.” Tony swings his legs onto the bed and pulls up the covers. He turns his back to Steve, but gestures with his hand. “Lock up and turn off the lights, okay?”

Steve has no idea how to react to any of it, so he follows Tony’s request only to hear him murmur, “Good night, honey.”

Steve tells himself that Tony’s exhausted, tired, still healing. He repeats this mantra several times as he walks to the bow of the ship to check in on the cockpit.

When he enters Clint and Natasha are following the checks for hyper jump. Natasha raises a brow at him but doesn’t remark. Instead, she says, “We’ll make the jump in about four hours. I want to run the ship through a final diagnostic. Why don’t you go and get something to eat?”

A not so subtle hint. Clint looks up and agrees. “I heard Bruce was concocting something. He’s infinitely more relaxed with Stark on board. Seriously those two are like science brothers or something, have you heard them gab like little old ladies about universal constants?”

“Universal constants, Hawk, really?” Steve says.

“Okay, not that, but whatever, it’s ridiculously adorable.” 

Steve grunts a reply, happy that the light in the cockpit is dim. No need for Natasha and Clint to glimpse the blush of his cheeks. He squashes the jealousy and mutters that he’s going to go eat. He can’t remember the last time he actually ate a full meal and his body tortures him in response. He feels a little like a solid-liquid mess, as if he’s melting into a puddle of weakness. When he walks into the kitchen, Bruce is there and silently gestures for him to sit. He settles on the bench near the wall and not the table, he thinks after he eats he might just lie down. Eating and sleeping have been lacking these days. Bruce hands him a bowl and waits as he eats it. He doesn’t just consume it, he inhales it. Unfortunately, it only causes the hunger to worsen and he hands the bowl to Bruce and bends over from the pain. In seconds another bowl of the stew is shoved in his hands and he eats this one slower, taking his time to taste the tasty meat. 

“You shouldn’t do this to yourself,” Bruce says. He doesn’t judge but at the same time he does. It’s a strange paradox. In many ways Bruce has been the soul of the ship. Talking about universal constants, Bruce is one of them. He’s a quiet tortured soul, but he keeps a pleasant attitude with those close to him, with those he considers family.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says around a mouth full of stew. It isn’t a lie, he’s not sure whether Bruce refers to the fact he hasn’t eaten in days, his crush on a sponsored Courtesan, or even the lack of sleep he’s running on.

“Sure you do,” Bruce says and goes over to the counter to slice a loaf of bread. He butters it and brings it to Steve. “Your metabolism runs on high all the time, you need four times the amount everyone else does and you’re sitting here eating less than what you need.”

“My body can also deal with deprivation better than anyone else on board.” He’s not sure that’s exactly true, because he has no idea how the biology of a god or demi-god or alien – whatever Thor and Loki are – works. 

“Not if you run yourself ragged,” Bruce sits down next to him. “You can always sleep on my cot in the Engine room, Steve.”

Bruce almost never calls him Captain. It’s a strange thing, but it never bothers Steve. He sops up the rest of the stew with the bread and chews slowly. 

“Take the bed for a bit, I can bake for a while.”

Steve checks on his chronometer and notes they have a little over three hours to hyper jump and then he’ll have to wake everyone to belt in for it. “Are you sure?”

Bruce smiles, takes the empty bowl, and walks over to the sink. “Better than you dreaming about Stark in the racks.”

Steve bites back his reply, but as he’s about to leave Bruce says, “He’s a good man, but don’t lose your heart to him, Steve. It’s not worth going after the unattainable. I should know.”

Looking back at Bruce, Steve nods and then leaves the room. He climbs down to the Engine room and finds the back corner where Bruce has his hideaway bed. Locked in the corner are books – not tablets or computer interfaces or vid hook ups – but honest to god books. Bruce shoved them in a bent and crooked bookcase in the tiny dormer of the ship’s belly. 

As he finds his way to the comfort of the bed, he reaches over and sees that from the bed he can just reach the books. He wonders how many times Bruce just lies in the bed and slides out a book to read before he sleeps. He thinks this must be a wonderful way to discover dreams and sleep. He smiles and pulls out a book. It isn’t a novel or a story or even a non-fiction book, but a book of quotes. He flips through it.

“Twenty-first century writers,” Steve reads the title. This was published even before his birth. He scans the pages, the pages are yellowed and smell of old places, but not dirty places. He imagines the places he’s seen in some of the vids, archaic, and ancient. The book organizes the quotes in different topics like grief, and sex, and love, and twilight, and sleep. He decides to slip it back into its place but before he does the book falls to the floor. He scoops it up and the pages open to a page on choices.

There are brilliant words printed across the page. He fingers the words as if just touching them will imbribe something wise and perfect into his soul about choices. But choices aren’t like that – they appear as serendipitously as the stories of the Fae. Here and there peppered throughout life. Making a choice closes and opens other choices down the long road.

Frowning, he closes the book and slips it back into its place on the book shelf. Lying there, staring into the darkness of the tiny hovel in the back of the ship, Steve falls asleep thinking about choices.

“Steve? Steve?”

He rolls over and blinks. Bruce hovers over him and smiles as he says, “Looks like we’re going to make the jump in about fifteen minutes. Natasha already alerted everyone, when they didn’t hear from you.”

Stumbling awake, Steve stretches out and stands. “Thanks, must have been tired.”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

He only shakes his head. “Thanks Bruce, I owe you one.”

“You owe me nothing, Steve,” Bruce strolls back to the Engine room proper as Steve climbs up the ladder to the main section of the ship. 

As he walks to the cockpit, he passes the corridor to Tony’s quarters. He looks down the passageway, thinking of choices. What he can do and what he can’t do. What is the present and what is the future. He learned a while back that he can’t count on the future. Look at him, centuries away from his future, his future is in the past. He can’t count on anything.

Maybe that is why he finds himself at the precipice of knocking on Tony’s door. Maybe that’s why he knocks and calls out. “Tony?”

The door swings open almost immediately. “Captain, my Captain.” 

Before he looks up to see who’s in the room, Steve steps through the threshold only to find Pepper sitting on the edge of the bed. She’s fully dressed but it throws Steve for a moment, and he stutters out a greeting.

“Captain,” Pepper says and stands. 

“I just wanted to stop by and tell you we’re jumping in a little over ten minutes.”

“Natasha already announced it. We’re getting ready,” Pepper says as Tony lifts up the bed to stow it. 

He clamps it into the wall and then takes one of the two seats in the room. 

“I’ll get back to the cockpit-.”

“Don’t be silly,” Pepper says and goes to the door. “I hear you two have things to talk about. I’m going to my room. Will that be all, Sir Stark?”

With a fond expression, Tony replies, “That will be all, Ms. Potts.”

She crinkles her nose at him and then pops through the hatch without another word. Steve closes the door and clicks the lock into place.

Tony points to the seat next to him. “Sit, before you become a projectile. I hear, on good authority, that this ship does not have dampeners. And it kind of sucks to go through hyper dimensionality without it.”

“Does it now?” Steve says. 

As Steve plops down, Natasha announces the countdown, and he frowns. He has an impeccable sense of timing due to the serum and he’s surprised that Natasha is pushing it. She must be antsy to test the upgrades Tony completed and when Steve glances over at Tony he glimpses not just a slight arrogance about Steve’s unspoken thoughts, but it radiates off of him. Yet the shine of it isn’t irritating but blinding and endearing. Steve only shakes his head and the countdown begins.

“Buckle in,” Steve says. He grapples for the straps and yanks them tight to harness himself to the chair. Tony mimics him but leaves the straps lose – on purpose Steve is sure. He huffs and loosens his own straps so he can lean over and re-do Tony’s for him. 

As Steve adjusts the straps against his chest, Tony places his hand along the curve of Steve’s neck where it meets his shoulder. For a moment, Steve freezes, but Tony doesn’t move his hand, just keeps it there as if he’s balancing, as if he needs to anchor himself to Steve. Steve works the straps, and knows he should ask Tony to remove his hand – but he can’t. If he’s truthful to himself, he would admit he doesn’t want Tony to stop touching him. He nearly growls out loud as he chides himself. He’s a bundle of mixed emotions – squabbling and debating whether to let decorum be damned or not. One minute he wants to throw caution to the wind, the next he’s careful and guarded. 

Instead of dealing with his feelings at this moment as Tony keeps his hand on Steve, he simply fixates on the straps, slipping them into the correct position and buckling them. As he moves away, Tony holds him in place and he has no other choice but to look up, to gaze into Tony’s eyes.

“You’re going to ruin everything, you know that, Captain,” Tony says. His breath is hot and near, they are only centimeters apart. “You’re my ruination.” Almost reluctantly, as if he understands how this will never work, Tony pursues a kiss. This time Steve is ready for it, he opens up immediately inviting Tony. He throws away all the self-doubts, the self-loathing, and the fear. He jumps in and answers Tony’s pursuit with his own hunt. Without words, he’s asking, questioning, needing. He’s taking to the hunt, taking his prey, devouring Tony. He lets his tongue, without forming words, ask for him. He seeks and destroys his own terrors at what he’s chasing as he holds onto Tony. He cannot pull him close and encompass him in his arms; they are bound by the straps of the seats, entrapped by convention, ensnared by the rules of their twisted society. Steve understands all of this, but for this moment, he melts into the kiss, he slides his hands along the jut of Tony’s shoulder, feeling the strength of his bicep and length of his arm.

He barely registers the engine humming, roaring as the hyper jump occurs. Yet as the dimensionality of space shifts between them, he experiences a freeing moment of lust, and despair, and want, and craving, and need. The need feels like the emptiness of hunger, always begging for more, always wishing for something to satiate it. Above it all, floats possibilities and probabilities like so many dimensions of space and time crashing in his head. He wants this more than anything, but, realizes, it is nothing that he can have as the ship settles and the jump ends, he tugs away from the awkward embrace, fumbling with the straps of his binding, and stumbling to stand.

“I have to g-.”

He’s stupid because he doesn’t move fast enough to get away from the still bound Tony. “Oh no you don’t Captain. I want you-.”

“You want me?” His voice sounds pathetic even to his ears. 

Tony squints at him and as he clicks open the buckles he’s talking, “Yeah, yeah, I want you to go over some of the protocols with me on the Courtesan slash Companion thing. That’s why you came by, right?”

Steve looks back at the door and tries to remember why he did come by. He glances back at Tony, thinks about the kiss, and feels like he did those first moments after occupying his new body – like he’d been plopped into an alien. Nothing feels right. Didn’t Tony just kiss him? What kind of game is this?

He gets irrationally angry at Tony, his cavalier attitude, his ability to cast aside Steve’s feelings as if he’s only just another sponsor, another damned john. He leaps at the chance, at the possibility of hurting Tony. “So, tell me Tony.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me, what do you know of the Chitauri.”

“I’m – what?” Tony stops from searching through his cases. “What did you say?”

“The Chitauri and your father, do you want to tell me that story?”

“I’m not sure what you heard, Captain, but it really isn’t any of your business.”

“It seems it might be since Loki contacted them when he left you on the Blessed Station,” Steve says and watches as a number of complex emotions filter over Tony’s face. “He said they had some superior way through space-time. He said you knew about it.” Steve knows he’s stretching the truth, but all that matters at this moment is making Tony as uncomfortable as Steve is. 

Tony throws the cloth bag he retrieved from his case onto the table. “You wanna know about my drunk of a father? You wanna know why Stane has his clutches in my family’s Corp? Sure, Captain, why the fuck not?”

He wants to backpedal because he feels like he’s scratching at raw and exposed nerves, nerves he exposed.

“Oh no,” Tony says and wags a finger at him. “No, you don’t. You want to know what that freak Loki is talking about. Fine, you want to hear a story, dear Captain?”

He doesn’t answer because he’s not sure he wants to hear anything, anymore. 

“Sure, so here’s how it goes. Howard Stark was a raging lunatic. Got himself hooked on the worst of the worst Ringers. Yeah, that’s right, my dad was a druggie. He had two and three of the rings stuck around his tongue at a time.” He laughs and it is a painful sound to hear. “You know what, you couldn’t even understand him sometimes. But I got this, I got that he hated what happened to the Corps. He was idealistic. He was the one who worked with the Main Chamber, got them all set up in the vids and virtuals. Got their brains into everything and everyone. It was Stark tech that did that, Captain.”

Steve opens his hands and says, “I didn’t know, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Oh, sure I do. Sure I do.” Tony gestures wildly. “Let me explain a little more, so Howard, wonderful father that he was decided that the only way to save the human race was to find you. You – why? I don’t even fucking know. He had this crazy idea of bringing back ideals and hope and shit.” Tony gazes at him and there’s something sweet, and hurt, and melancholy in his eyes. “He wanted to rebuild the world based on you, Captain. He only talked about Captain America this, Captain America that.

“He went to Ravine’s Edge more times than I can count. He spent years looking for you. He only found one fucking thing. One.”

He’s almost too frightened to ask. “What was it?” He knows, deep in his gut he knows.

“The tesseract, that is what he found.” Tony frowns, and then rubs his temples. “He found the tesseract. This was about the same time Stane fucked up the Corp. He did a job on it, screwed everything over, and – well you don’t need to hear everything. But Howard, good old Dad, decided to sell his treasure on the black market, instead of investigating what good it could do. Some idealist, huh? When push comes to shove, he abandoned his ideals and went for the fucking money just like everyone else in the damned Human Space.”

“He sold the tesseract?”

“Yeah, sold it on the black market to some aliens. He ended up dead shortly afterward, Stane is most probably responsible for that. He never forgave my father for selling it. I can’t blame him there,” Tony says as he wilts, as the anger burns out of him. “He sold the tesseract to someone from the Nine Realms. All that potential, all those possibilities. I don’t know why he didn’t use it, why he didn’t research it. But he was blown out of his mind by then, lost and drugged.

“Wasn’t long until he ended up dead and Ten Rings kidnapped me. So, that’s the story, Captain, do you like it? Was it entertaining enough for you?” He folds his arms over his chest, the arc reactor like a beacon to Steve.

Bowing his head, Steve says, “I’m sorry, I just – I am sorry.” He peers at Tony and a soft shift of expressions flitters over Tony’s face. 

“Don’t worry about it. A small footnote in history that you probably skimmed over when you were trying to catch up with everything.”

“Can the tesseract act as a doorway? As a way through space like Loki is saying?” Steve asks.

“It could.”

“That’d be pretty dangerous,” Steve comments more to himself than to Tony.

“Now you see why my father is reviled by more than just me.” Tony turns away from him. “Doesn’t matter much anyhow, the tesseract needs something to stabilize it. Otherwise the doorway collapses and irradiates everyone.”

“That sounds especially bad,” Steve says and tries not to recall the horrifying events of his day when confronting Hydra and their possession of the tesseract meant nearly invincible weapons. The last he’d seen of it, it had melted through the ship and Red Skull disappeared as well – probably through some sort of a rift in the space-time continuum.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity, Captain?” Tony says and he looks wrung out, more so than he had after his injuries. 

Heat warms Steve’s face, he’s more than ashamed of his actions, he’s humiliated that he would lash out. Emotions drive him into irrational places. His mind jumps to losing Bucky again and he scrubs at his eyes trying to wipe away the images.

“Hey, where’d you go just then?” 

“Hmm?” Steve blinks his eyes and shakes his head. “Listen, I’m sorry. I was angry for no good reason.”

“Oh, there was a reason.”

“Not a good one,” Steve says. “Can we just leave it at my apology and forget it?”

Tony considers him, presses his lips together and shrugs. “If you say so, Captain.” 

“I say so.”

“Don’t worry so much, Captain.” He turns back to the table and digs through it again. “Back to it, then, I have all the stuff you need. Never travel without it.”

Steve thinks he might get whiplash. “What?” 

“You have to be comfortable with your position as Companion, so you need to wear the matching medal.” Tony opens the locker in the guest quarters and searches through it. “Here you go. It’s similar to mine but clearly designates you as the Companion. You have to be completely comfortable in the position and, what I mean by that is, you have to understand that you’ll be expected to touch and be familiar with me.”

Steve feels his expression compact like his entire face contracts with confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

“I thought you understood, Captain. You have to be willing to kiss me, to touch me, to show off my attributes. At the Chromes, during the races this is a show and Tony Stark knows how to put on a show.” 

Steve turns away, just puts his face in profile so that Tony cannot make out his expression, because the discomfiture welling reddens his cheeks. He feels a great rush in his ears. He lowers his head for a moment, and nods. “Can we do this another time? We’ve just made the jump and I need to check out the ship, plus I need to check in with SHIELD.”

“Oh, oh,” Tony says and Steve’s finally able to look at him again. Something indescribable passes over Tony’s features, a mixture of hurt and worry. Steve almost asks why but he mutes his questions as Tony flashes his smile again. “Why, of course, Captain.”

Steve pauses before he leaves. He’s uncertain about what just occurred. As he turns the lever to open the door, he peers back at Tony, who’s just pulled out the flask again and swigs the content as his other hand lingers on the arc reactor. 

Steve escapes and strides toward the cockpit. Everything is a jumble in his head – Loki, the tesseract, Tony. This was supposed to be an easy commission, and it just feels like he’s drowning again. He has to contact SHIELD, he hasn’t checked in for quite a while and he’s sure parts of their escapades must have made it to the Rag-nets by now. Before he gets to the cockpit though, he bumps into Pepper.

“Captain,” Pepper smiles and moves off.

“Excuse me, Ms. Potts,” Steve murmurs but then turns as she departs. “Ms. Potts, Pepper?”

Spinning her heel, she comes back with her ponytail swinging the entire time. “Yes? Is there a problem?”

He considers how very exposed they are, how any of the crew or passengers could walk by at any moment. He throws caution to the wind. “I wanted to ask you about Tony.”

“Is there a problem?” she repeats. He notices how she’s all angles but with softened curves. He can imagine she uses her angularity as a defense, but her softness as an asset.

“No, no, I just-.” He bites back his words but then dives in. If he’s going to drown he needs to know how deep the water is. “I would like to know what the story is. Why is Tony- what- why is Tony so-.”

She clasps his arm and her touch is tender. “Here, Captain, let me help you.” She guides him back to the room she shares with Natasha. He’s never been in the quarters of his pilot and he’s still not technically in the room, just in the small archway between the gantry and the hatch to the room. “I think everyone knows that Tony was kidnapped by the Ten Rings. I think everyone assumes that Tony had a breakdown because of the Ten Rings, because of his father’s untimely death, and everything that happened there. But what people don’t know is that yes, the Ten Rings and everything changed Tony, but not like people imagine. He’s not damaged goods, he’s stronger than you can imagine.”

“Then why the games, why the attitude?”

“Everyone needs a defense, Captain. From what I understand the best offense is a good defense.”

“He told me Stane tried to kill him.”

Pepper blows out a sigh and he sees the weight of everything Tony is burdened on her shoulders. He wonder why she bears it and can only put it down to love. 

“Is he in danger?”

“I can’t answer that, not without lying to you, Captain,” Pepper says. “I’m asking you to help me. I can’t give you all of the answers, because Tony hasn’t given them all to me. All I can say is that you seem interested, and you seem like one of the good guys to me, so I am asking you to help me.”

“Help you, how?”

“Tony likes you, he actually really trusts you,” Pepper says. “Maybe it’s his father’s faith in you as a legend, maybe it’s something more, I don’t know. I need you to help me protect him, at least until he gets to the Inner Belts.” Her voice falters at the words Inner Belts.

“Is Tony in danger from his sponsor?” Steve asks.

The archway is shadowed and he cannot see the details of her expression clearly, but her hesitation speaks. “Ask Tony, ask Tony who is sponsor really is.”

She turns to the pilot quarters but before she retreats to the sanctity of the room she says, “Captain, Tony puts on a front on for everyone. For me, for you. He pretends even for us, but I do know Tony well enough, that he trusts you with his life.”

“But why?”

She doesn’t answer, only offers him a sad smile and disappears into her quarters. He waits only a few minutes and then heads to the cockpit. He clears his mind, he has to focus on work, not the mystery, the puzzle that is Tony Stark, but he can still feel the burn of the kiss. It felt real, it couldn’t have been just for show. No one else was there. 

He slips into the cockpit where Natasha and Clint are closing up shop for the night. The ship will drift toward the Chrome Domes Station for the next few days. Once there, they will dock and be able to take on supplies and do general maintenance on the Commando. 

“Can I get a list of our diagnostics, preventatives, and general maintenance we’ll need on the Station?” 

Natasha offers him a half crooked smile. “Already laid out, Captain. I’ll give it a look over tonight and you can sign off tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” he says and starts the patch through to SHIELD. He dreads reporting in.

“We want us to stay, Cap?” Clint says as he stretches from the navigator’s chair.

“No need for all of us to get our asses kicked,” Steve replies and both Natasha and Clint vacate the cockpit so that Steve can contact SHIELD.

Even before he’s completely finished with his retinal scan and finger print confirmation, Fury is on the screen yelling at him, “Just tell me Captain Rogers, what the hell do you think you’re doing? And where the hell have you been?”

Keeping his cool with Fury always is a lesson in patience. “We had an issue with the hyper drive and ended up lost for-.”

“Lost?” Fury says. “You were lost because you fucking shot up a sex slavers Station. How the hell am I supposed to deal with the Inner Belts, the fucking Main Chamber on that one? Do you want to _know_ what they do to people who fuck up the status quo?”

“Director, we did not go to Blessed Station with any bad intentions. We needed parts for the Commando and our passenger was abducted.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Fury says. “Are you shitting me? Stark was abducted? Now I have to fucking take care of Stane and his god damned-.”

“Sir Stark has been rescued and in our attempt to leave the station there was a fire fight. We took damage and had to make a hyper dimensional jump without the properly functioning drive. We were lost, but luckily were able to determine our approximate location-.”

“Where are you now?”

“Outside the Chromes,” Steve says and prays Fury doesn’t quiz him about the Haven disaster, or the fact he has Asgardians on board, though the Haven scenario probably played well on the vids. How much they saw of Tony and his repulsors is another thing entirely. As for Loki, well, he’d rather keep that under wraps at the moment.

“The Chromes? You are way off course.”

“Understood, Director. We will make a short stop here to take on supplies and do general maintenance. Natasha and Clint will do the Pilot Runs for their certifications. After, we’ll make the jumps to the Boroughs.”

“Are you estimating arrival on time at the Inner Belts? I have Hill telling the Feds that you have a hot commission that will pay well on our cut,” Fury says.

“We’ll get there in time, Director.”

“You seem awfully confident considering the state of the Howling Commando,” Fury says as he crosses his arms. 

“Let’s just say the commission has its perks,” Steve says and leaves it at that, Fury doesn’t need to know.

Unfolding his arms, Fury leans forward and glares at Steve. “Just remember, Captain, if you fuck this up, they will exponentially increase your debt.”

“I understand, Director,” Steve says with a curt nod.

“I hope you do, I hope you do,” Fury states but before he signs off he notes, “I don’t want to see that happen to you, Captain. Debt isn’t always paid off as easily as you got it, remember that. You need to keep both eyes open.”

“Understood,” Steve says as the screen goes dark. He frowns, he’s not sure he does fully comprehend the warning. He’s always been leery of SHIELD and the Feds. Is there someone else he has to worry about? Or is Fury overly concerned about the commission and Tony. 

With nothing pressing left to do, he sinks down into the pilot’s chair and leans back staring out into the blankness of space. Before them looms the station, they are still far distant but it awaits them. He hasn’t been to the Chromes in quite some time. He wants to get there and get out as quickly as possible. The longer they stay, the harder it will be to maintain their schedule. He doesn’t want whoever is gunning for them to have an excuse. 

Over the course of the next days, he focuses on the work at hand. He’s neglected a lot of his captain’s reports and his logs, so he holds up in the cockpit at night and works. Tony doesn’t come around and Steve doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not. He finds himself tense at every little sound as he works in the cockpit. Prying into Howard Stark’s background may very well have insulted Tony beyond repair. He’d been stupidly angry, because of his crush. He should listen to Bucky more often; maybe if he got laid he wouldn’t follow his heart down the primrose path. 

He has to concede the whole affair, the whole affair that has been in his head – part of his fantasies is just that. He knows how to deal with disappointment; his life before Project Rebirth had been one disappointment after another. He throws himself into the work and thinks of Tony as just another passenger, just another commission. As the ship veers in toward its final approach to the Chromes station, Steve hangs onto the hull of the ship and takes in the vast expanse of the nebular cloud outside of the station. Natasha brings the ship up to the docking clamps and glides her in with a soft thump on the outer hull. 

“Brace for gravitational transfer.” Natasha tries to switch over the gravitational force from the Commando to the station with little effect on the occupants of the ship – sometimes it works other times not so much. But the Chromes is an advanced station with the ability to temper the blow, unlike other stations peppered throughout Human Space. 

The Commando nestles up to the dock and the clamps holding it to the under base of the station. Steve watches as Clint signs through the normal routines. Getting permissions isn’t always easy when they don’t have a stop on their itinerary, but Steve filed the change with SHIELD and so Fury would have gotten permissions for them to dock. There was no way Steve would have filed with SHIELD for the stop at Blessed, he’d hoped to get in and out without SHIELD or the Feds knowing. 

“Cap, they’re asking for your license and permissions,” Clint says.

“Put it through to the comm,” Steve says and steps up to the console and follows through with the needed authorizations. It feels good to just forget about the ambiguity of Tony Stark and what the hell is going on in that department. As soon as he thinks this, the comm buzzes. He answers it when he completes the standard operating procedure for arrival.

He hits the button and Tony’s face appears on the screen. “Capsicle, kind of need you to get your fancy ass to my quarters. We have to go over the whole Companion deal.”

He claps a hand over his eyes and shakes his head.

“You’re going to be his chaperone?” Clint chokes on his laughter.

“Shut it,” Steve says and sighs. “Be there in a bit.”

“Not too long, Captain, we have important things to discuss.” He blows Steve a kiss and the screen goes dark.

“I didn’t think we could do intra-ship communication, except for audio,” Steve mutters.

“Oh yeah, Stark fixed that too,” Clint says as Natasha scoffs beside him.

“Wonderful,” Steve says and trudges to the guest quarters.

Before he even arrives, Tony opens the door and welcomes him with open arms. Steve only steps through the hatch and stands waiting for Tony’s information. Immeidately, Tony approaches him, hops up on tip toes and kisses Steve’s cheek. Then, he proceeds to retrieve a number of articles from his suitcases and locker.

“You’ll have to wear the medal and the-.”

“No.”

“Because it signifies- wait, what?” Tony turns around and glares at him. “Did you just say no?”

“Yes, no, yes I said no,” Steve says through gritted teeth. Seriously, how does this man always set him on the edge of his emotions? 

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Captain,” Tony says and screws up his face as if he’s never been turned down before, as if he puzzles out some problem or complex equation. “I thought you understood-.”

“I don’t think so, I think you’re getting along fine, with whatever game you’re playing,” Steve says. His mouth seems bent on getting him fired. His heart speeds in his chest as if he runs a race, but not – not a race – it is as if he flees a pursuer, a predator, an assailant. How does he think of Tony as someone who might attack him, shred him down to the hollow of his marrow? Who is Tony Stark to do this to him? He had been feeling guilty about how he’d interrogated Tony on his family business, but now he’s confronting Tony. He has no business being in love, he doesn’t know how to be in love.

“I’m not playing a game,” Tony says and lightly places the articles on the bed. “I can be callous, superficial, narcissistic, and arrogant. I can also be loyal to a fault, self-sacrificing, and painfully honest when I need to be. Tell me, Captain, what do you need me to be painfully honest about?”

It throws Steve, tosses him to the far reaches toward the ends of Human Space. The oxygen in the room disappears for a minute and he thinks he might sway at the pressure pushing out his lungs as he considers Tony. He can’t stop the words from flowing out of his rebellious mouth again. “The kiss, the kisses.”

At this point, Steve knows Tony could crack a sharp witted remark, something cutting and edged that would be raw enough to hurt – Steve recognizes that he’s putting himself on the chopping block, offering up his neck, exposing himself.

Tony looks away and to the side before he faces Steve to answer. “You’re right, Captain. You’re a good man, everyone knows it. I wanted to see for myself. You know to see if the legend actually lived up to the legend like my father had hoped. And you do, you hate what’s become of this thing we call humanity, but you’re not willing to give up on it. You won’t even give up on Loki. Dear old Dad, dead all these years and still taking me to school.”

Tony closes the distance between them and his gaze is heavy, intense, and drills down into Steve so much that he feels naked. 

“I wanted to see if it was all true, all the rumors I heard about you. I’ve seen that it is, you’re distinctly good, but also a bit of a snarky bastard sometimes, as well as a fish out of water. I think you could change everything, Captain, if you put your mind to it. I wonder why you don’t.” He pauses and lets that sink in. “And as for the kisses, they were very real, Captain, as real as you want them to be. Do you want them to be real?”

He opens his mouth to answer but Tony slips a finger over his lips. “Don’t answer, just think.” Tony drops his hand and goes back to the bed, picking up the articles. “You’ll need to wear your best uniform, and the Companion’s medal.” 

It amazes Steve how easily Tony falls back into the façade and, now he’s sure it is only a façade. Tony Stark is something different, someone different. He’s dangerous, yes, but he is also very vulnerable. And that vulnerability causes a need, a yearning to bubble up in Steve to protect Tony, shield him from whatever fire he’s playing with. For the first time, Steve admits that Tony is playing with fire, but he has no idea what fire it is – what its origin might be.

“Here,” Tony says and offers the medal to Steve.

He holds it in his hand and flips it over. “I want it to be real,” he whispers before he’s even able to stop himself.

Tony halts in his litany about the articles for the Companion. He looks over his shoulder at Steve and a weary, half sad smile crosses his face. “I’m sorry then, I shouldn’t have led you on.”

Something cringes tight and awful in Steve’s stomach. He thinks he might vomit and sucks down a breath to stop. Even though he cannot totally trust Tony, even though he’s a mystery and a danger, there’s something else there. There’s a bravery and a caring that leads Steve toward him as if he is the burning sun, Sol.

“Okay, then,” he says and clenches the medal in his hands. He wants to escape now and moves toward the door.

Tony catches him. “Because I do, too. Captain, my Captain, I do, too.”

Looking up, he sees Tony perched on thinnest of strings, teetering, a thread that barely holds him up. He’ll fall, plummet downward to a fate even Steve cannot deny. He’s promised to someone else, someone powerful, someone free, someone who could give Tony more than a world or two as an afternoon treat. He’s pledged, and Steve has nothing more to offer than the bones of his skin and the bolts of his ship. There’s nothing of value here.

“I want you,” Steve says, and his voice sounds distant as if he’s listening to it from another room. He fists the medal in his hands, feels the rough edge of it against his palm. 

Tony says no words only stretches out his hand and opens it, a welcoming gesture. Or is it a final goodbye, Steve does not know. He reaches out, takes the hand, feels the warmth, and then Tony drags him in, reeling in to arms and an embrace longed for and desired. Lips shared and touched, mouths tasted and bitten. It becomes too much and not enough all at once. Steve grapples with Tony, not fighting but struggling to get his bearings, his balance. It is as if the whole of the universe tilted on its side and pieces and parts are cascading off. A table upended, a puzzle broken apart, a mosaic shattered. 

He finds his hands carding through Tony’s hair, then caressing down his back and searching muscles and tendons and tugging up layers of shirt to feel, to taste skin again. But Tony – Tony stops him.

He pants against Steve’s shoulder, and a shiver – not of desire, but fear – torments him.

“Tony? Tony?”

He tries to step away, to hide, but Steve holds on, shelters him and asks, “What? What’s going on, Tony? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I know, I know,” Tony whispers. “I picked you because you’re the only one I can trust. Everyone knows, everyone knows you’re the only one that’s out there who can be trusted.”

“Tell me,” Steve says into the waves of Tony’s thick hair.

“I picked you not for this, Captain, but for something more important. So much more important.”

“What?” Steve aches with the need to know, aches with the want to touch all of Tony, to feel all of his skin against his bare body. But he has to battle Tony’s demons first, and he will. 

“I picked you so I can be delivered to him, to be sure. Because I knew you would do your duty.”

And the words should make him proud but they only fracture him, cut him deep and wide, and sully him all at once. “Duty,” he says and his words falter.

“Your duty to deliver me to him,” Tony says.

“I’ll buy your year with him,” Steve says, knowing it’s impulsive and stupid. He couldn’t live a thousand lifetimes to work and pay off the debt. 

Tony laughs low in his throat and rests his head against Steve’s shoulder. “You know you can’t.”

“I know.” Steve brushes his hand down Tony’s back. “Tell me he’ll treat you right.”

“Don’t make me lie to you, Captain.”

A stab to his heart, true and clean. Steve hisses and says, “Tell me who he is. I want to know who the bastard is so I can-.”

“You won’t, because you’ll do your duty.”

“My duty isn’t to deliver a human being into another human being’s possession to be harmed,” Steve says.

Tony laughs again but it is rueful and dark. “I don’t even think he’s human. He’s known for his peculiarities.”

“Which one in the Main Chamber, Tony, tell me?” Because he knows this much, he knows Tony’s sponsor is one of the bigwigs in the Main Chamber.

“All of them, none of them,” Tony says. He looks up at Steve, his eyes in shadow even with the arc reactor pressed between them. “Why does it matter?”

“I want to know, you owe me that much.”

Tony sighs, his shoulders slump, and he nods. Stepping just out of Steve embrace, looking down into the abyss, he whispers a name.

“Ultron, his name is Ultron.”


	12. Chapter 12

Even pressed, Tony wouldn’t explain what he meant when he said he didn’t think of his sponsor as human. Tony had ushered him out the door and he finds himself at the entrance to his own quarters seeking some of his stored clothing. Loki stands to the side as he ducks into the room. He hurries along, they’ve docked and he needs to finish up the logistics of their stay at the Chromes. Both Loki and Thor loiter in the room as he digs out his best uniform which is woefully out of date, but it is his class As, from the days before. They’d given him a replica of it for state affairs when he was first thawed from his deep freeze. 

“Steven, we will leave you to it then,” Thor says and gestures for Loki to follow him.

Steve surveys his quarters feeling all the more a stranger in its confines and wonders why he feels more at ease in the guest quarters these days. Thor and Loki have decorated the space with mementos of their home – the place glistens with relics of Asgard, Mjolnir and a staff hang prominently on the wall. There’s also a carving of a large tree that he thinks might be the tree of life or Yggdrasil. 

“You don’t have to leave; I’m just getting some of my better uniforms-.”

“Oh yes, Captain, I heard you were to accompany the Courtesan during this respite on the Way Station,” Loki says and his lips curl into a smile that reminds Steve of cats in faraway children’s stories of a girl down a rabbit hole. 

“Please, Steven, we will take our leave and afford you time to prepare for your role as Companion. I understand it is an honored position, and you show your respect for the Courtesan by taking on this role.” The Asgardian prince offers him a look that can only be interpreted as one of pride and admiration. 

“Tony just needs a bodyguard, really,” Steve says but can’t stop himself from the thought, the opportunity this will represent to spend time, unhindered with Tony. Steve retrieves his duffle bag since they will spend several nights on the Station. It will be a relief from everyone on the ship to be able to have time and space to stretch out. He’s only been to the Chromes a handful of times and everyone he knows loves it here. He’s even partial to it, even though he can’t set his feet down on the solid ground of a planet. The Chromes hangs high above a nascent star system with its nebulas and primordial rocks. 

As he stuffs a few articles of clothing into the duffle he continues, “Stay, I’ll be out of your hair in just a few minutes.”

“May I ask, dear Captain, if we are allowed to seek the comforts of the station as well?” Loki says. 

“I’d like to ensure your security and I can’t do that with your traipsing around the station,” Steve says and zips the duffle bag closed.

“My special talents might come of some use,” Loki says.

“You mean the special ones where you sell us out for your own personal gain?” Steve counters, and immediately regrets it because of the pained expression washing over Thor’s face. “I’m sorry; I just want to transport you to the Inner Belts without any further incidence. If there’s something you need or require in the meanwhile that I can pick up for you on the station, I’ll do my best.”

Thor’s furrowed brow eases and he smiles, softly, to add, “You have been a gracious host, thus far, and we and all of Asgard are indebted to you.”

“No debts, Thor, not between friends.”

Thor slaps him on the back hard enough to cause him to take a staggered step. As he leaves the quarters he notes the snide look on Loki’s face and he wonders how Thor stands the seemingly double faced actions of his brother. Then he recalls that Loki is not truly his brother but an abducted child, lost to his true family. It occurs to Steve that Loki might not know who is true family is, but that Thor believes he should take that role. 

Everyone has their issues.

He strides to the crew quarters with the rows of racks and pushes through the narrow aisles to the head. He needs to shower and get ready if he’s to act as the Companion to Tony’s Courtesan. He’s not looking forward to it, not outwardly, but part of him likes the idea of spending uninterrupted time with Tony without the need for an excuse. If he gets a chance he’ll find out what is up with Tony’s sponsor, why Tony hides the fear and sorrow lurking underneath, and why Tony – a brilliant engineer and head of a Corp – would do this to himself. 

Stripping, he steps into the shower and lets the hot water stream over him. Showers are, by necessity, fast and efficient on the Howling Commando. He’d like to linger, like to think of Tony as he palms himself, but there’s no time and he needs to get his head in the game. It isn’t about jerking off to his fantasies, but about the very real story of a man he’s very madly in love with – he plans on finding out as much as he can over the next three days.

He’s a dichotomy of emotions as he towels off and tugs on his underclothes. While he wants to help Tony he’s also aware of the distrust Bucky has for the man. After all, Tony contacted Colonel James Rhodes some time ago. Rhodes is one of the highest ranking officers of the First Inner Patrol, as well as the most decorated. How Tony and Rhodes know one another is a mystery and also plays into Bucky’s paranoia about the whole thing. It seems ironic, now, that it is Bucky who bullied Steve into taking the commission. 

With a straight razor, he shaves, tidies up and then combs his air. When he’s satisfied, he puts on his uniform. It is out of date, but he doesn’t care. This is his best uniform, and Tony asked for the best.

“Getting all beautiful for your date with Stark?” Bucky says as he strolls into the crew quarters. He looks sullen and not as playful as his mocking words project.

“Just doing my duty for this commish you wanted so badly, Buck,” Steve says and tightens his belt. He pins on his Companion medal under the ones he received during the war. Bucky frowns and crosses the distance between them to straighten it.

“You’re a fool, you know that right?” Bucky says as he unpins the medal, and then clicks it into place. He presses his hands down along the medals there. One signifies wounded in action – more than once. He fingers it and says, “I don’t want you hurt again.”

“I’m not getting hurt, Bucky,” Steve replies.

“He’s bad news. He’s promised to a bigwig, and he’s talking with Rhodes. You gotta know it’ll end badly for you.”

“I’m fairly certain it will,” Steve says but tries to blow it off. Bucky’s having none of it.

“Christ, Steve, you are a fucking idiot, sometimes,” Bucky says.

“Only sometimes,” he says with tongue in cheek.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “God damned it, but you have a smart mouth.”

“More ways than one, my good fella, more ways than one.”

“That is something I do not need to know, you jerk,” Bucky says and yanks out his own duffle from under his rack. “How long we staying?”

“Three days, you thinking of hanging on the ship or going out to the station?”

“Bruce and Clint are hanging back; I’d like to take Natasha out for a day or two. She and Clint will be at the Pilot Runs most of the time, but I can-.”

“I get it, I get it,” Steve says with a quick wave off. “Take the time. Charge it to the Commando account.”

“You don’t have to-.”

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, right? After this commish, we’re all free, right?”

Bucky studies him for a moment, and then slowly nods with a smile forming on his face. He snorts once and slaps Steve on the back. “Have a good time as the chaperone.”

“Companion,” Steve corrects but smiles nonetheless.

“Whatever you say, see you on the deck?” Bucky says as Steve eases his way around the racks to the hatch. 

“Yep, gotta go pick up Stark and then check in with the deck officer,” Steve says.

Bucky does a cockeyed salute with his metal arm and Steve returns it before he leaves. He slings the duffle over his shoulders and turns down the corridor to the guest quarters, but it’s already empty so he figures he might have missed Tony. Sighing, he checks in on the cockpit before he leaves the main section of the ship. Natasha is just locking down the computer and giving last minute instructions to Hawkeye. They’re probably also going over their strategy for the races.

Natasha acknowledges him with a quick wave but goes back to work with Clint as they diagram out their pathway through the mining belt. He peers out the windscreen – the array of windows shows the vast planetoids and asteroids circling the nascent stars of the nebula. It is a rich and vast area for mining and wealth. The Chromes is one of the richest Way Stations for a reason. 

He straightens his uniform and then he swings over the ladder and slides down it to the main cargo hold of the Commando. He’s the first one to the hold, and he stows his bag to the side and keys in the code to open the ramp way. Taking his pad from the bag, he walks down the ramp and awaits the deck officer to appear. Steve scans the docking area and sees a number of other ships in place. He’s not surprised since the Runs always attracts a number of ships so that their pilots and navigators can complete their required certification races. 

The deck officer joins Steve at the edge of the ramp. He’s tall and lanky; he looks extra tired and harried, but that must be due to the activity at the bay. Chromes is always a fast place, but now with the races on, they must be seeing an uptick on action.

“Don’t got you on the routes,” the deck officer says and cracks his gum. He doesn’t offer a name and he’s not wearing his tag, so Steve has to go with the formal.

“Sorry, officer, we had some trouble and ended up having to jump blind. We’re lucky we found our way back to occupied space, and human occupied at that,” Steve says as he tries to catch a glimpse of the man’s pad. “SHIELD should have forwarded our new itinerary to add the Chromes.”

The officer sniffles a few times and scratches at the side of his nose, leaving rivets of red marks up and down his nostrils. He’s a user; most Ring drug users have especially sensitive facial skin. “Gotta look, wait here. Didn’t update.” He shuffles off to the terminal by the side of the berth. Slipping the pad into the slot, the deck officer clicks through a few commands and then the screen projects a new itinerary. The officer nods. “Looks like you got it.”

“Great.” 

“Ain’t gonna get no accommodations. The place is booked to the lower level domes. You’ll have to stay on the ship,” the officer says.

Steve’s heart sinks, he hadn’t realized how much he was looking forward to resting in a real bed instead of sitting up in the pilot’s chair all sleep cycle. “Are you sure?” 

“Damn right,” the officer says. “You wanna finish the check in?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says and finds his way to the terminal to answer the routine questions, fill in the logistics sheet, and finalize payment for the docking. The Chromes is damned expensive to moor at. 

“That’ll do,” the officer says and then is called away for another issue by one of the junior agents on the Station. 

Steve scans the bay and notes a few ships he recognizes. He smiles. “I’ll be damned. The Marvel is here.” He might be able to catch a dinner with Carol – that would be nice. He hasn’t had any time to speak with her for ages. 

With a lift in his step, he climbs up the ramp way, thinking he might want to inform Natasha of Danvers presence – it’ll make the races all the more interesting. As he enters the cargo hold, he hears the distinct voice of Pepper Potts.

“Tony, if you get your formal wear dirty, I swear. It isn’t like there’s any decent laundry facilities on the ship, you know,” Peppers says as she walks out from the hatch which leads to the Engine room.

“Ma’am?” Steve says. “I could arrange a cleaning on the station.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort, dear Captain,” Tony says and enters the cargo hold.

Steve staggers to a stop when he first sees Tony in his formal Courtesan garb. He thought he’d seen it before, on Haven, but this is obviously more formalwear than the casual outfit Tony wore to the Rims’ planet. He could have handled it if it had been something outlandish, or showing a lot of skin, or something equally off putting to his sensibilities. What Tony wears, though is downright heart robbing and beautiful.

Standing there, Steve gapes at Tony and the Courtesan only allows a twinkle to catch in his expression. “You like, Captain?” He struts up to Steve and turns slowly around to showcase the entire wardrobe of his formal wear. “This is something I wear in public that displays I am a Courtesan but at the same time completely covers me. You think it does the job?”

Pepper grins next to Tony and takes the old rag he must have been wiping his hands on away from him. She says, “It’s called a Sherwani”

The intricately embroidered design of the jacket follows the line of Tony’s throat and then circles around the glow from the arc reactor which is completely covered yet accentuated by the stitching across his chest. The long sleeves have embroidery along the cuffs and at the hem of the jacket which falls to Tony’s mid-thigh. The pants – Steve’s not sure what to call them – are silk and curve about Tony’s calves with light colored jewels along the inseam. Steve looks at the shoes which are more like slippers. The entire ensemble is a soft white almost like the clouds, although the threads of the stitching have undertones of azure to bring out the color of the arc reactor, Steve would guess.

He’d never think that covering Tony up so completely would enhance his sensuality exponentially, but it does. Steve’s tongue feels too thick for his mouth. He wants to speak, to say something, but his head feels light and his eyes hurt.

Tony walks up to him as others start to gather in the cargo bay. He reaches out and adjusts the Companion medallion. “You have this on wrong, Captain.” He unpins it, and then gently adjusts the pin to the side of Steve’s medals. In a voice only Steve can hear, Tony says, “You’ve been wounded several times? I didn’t know that.” He looks up to meet Steve’s gaze. “I don’t want to wound you again.”

Finally, he finds his voice. “You won’t.”

Tony smiles and it is delicious and gorgeous all at once. “Then maybe I’ll let you help me out of this get-up later.” He presses both palms of his hands against Steve’s chest and then says for everyone to hear, “Let’s get the show on the road, shall we?” He walks away from Steve. “I can’t wait to get off this bucket for a few weeks.”

The words knock Steve into orbit again like an asteroid nicking a planet. “Um, a few days, not weeks.”

“Excuse me, no,” Tony says and brushes an unseen bit of dust from his immaculate jacket. “I think I am going to like spreading my wings a little at the station, Captain. I booked us rooms for three weeks.”

“Rooms? Three weeks?” He scans the faces studying him. Natasha is biting the inside of her cheek along with her co-conspirator, Hawkeye. Bucky glowers at him as if he wants to say I told you so. Meanwhile Bruce just keeps to himself in the back as Loki snickers. Thor reprimands his brother with a quick glance to the side. 

“Yes, I book all of us rooms, Captain, at the top level of the Chromes.”

“I heard they were all booked up,” Steve says.

“Doesn’t matter when it comes to me, and when it comes to a traveling Courtesan.” Tony shares a secret look with Pepper and then she nods to agree with him. “Come on, take a load off, I’m sure your crew could use a little rest and relaxation.”

“Something fierce, I’m sure, but this is not the way.” Steve searches the faces for support and finds none. 

Most of the crew glares at him, especially Natasha and Bucky who’ve been sleeping apart for weeks. He owes it to them. He turns his face away and swallows down the agitation. 

“It’s my treat, for like, saving me from the evil sex slavers,” Tony says and his lips curl into a winning smile. “Even thunder god here, and his little toy evil doer.”

Steve only catches a glimpse of Tony’s smile as he faces them again, their expectant faces. This is why he should never be a father, he cracks too easily. “Three weeks is too long. We have obligations.” He chokes the words out; thinks they sound right, not hesitant, not garbled with anger and longing. “You have a sponsor who’s waiting on you.”

“And he can wait a little longer,” Tony says and spreads his arms out. “Come on Captain, you know you want to.”

“Cap,” Clint says. “It’ll do everyone good.”

“Plus, if we’re doing the recert races, we have to be here longer than three days,” Natasha chimes in.

He should leave someone on the ship, and to have the Asgardians roaming about the Chromes Dome is just asking for trouble. He might as well ring up SHIELD now and confess that he’s harboring aliens on board. But his crew is worn thin, and tired to boot. He really needs to allow them time to relax and take their ease.

“I paid for everything,” Tony says, his voice soft and kind now.

“One week,” Steve says.

“Two and a half,” Tony replies with a quirked brow.

“Ten days,” Steve returns and crosses his arms over his chest as he sees Natasha try and hold back her smile.

“Two.”

“Ten days and that’s my final offer,” Steve says. “We got drop offs in the Rims, people depending on us. And then we have to swing by Parson’s Point to check on the kids.”

Tony tilts his head and studies Steve, narrowing his eyes and then bites his lip. “Tell you what, ten days and you stay with me.”

“I thought that was the whole point of the Companion,” Steve says, not startling like Tony wanted – obviously.

“Well, yes, sweetheart, it is –but you don’t get my drift. You stay in my room with me,” Tony says. When Steve doesn’t reply because his mouth has gone dry, Tony turns to the crowded bay and announces, “Ten days leave – peeps – we have made a deal.”

Everyone cheers, claps, and Bucky shakes his head but doesn’t protest at all. Pepper joins Tony and they have their heads together probably planning Steve’s demise. “I didn’t really-.” No one listens as they scatter to retrieve their belongings for their extended stay on the Chromes. 

“No one’s listening anyhow,” Bucky leans into him. 

“I didn’t exactly want this, you know,” Steve says and grimaces as Bucky calls him on his little white lie. “Okay, but not like this. I don’t like being manipulated.”

“Maybe not, but you do like him,” Bucky says as they sidle off to the side of the hold. “Be careful. We still don’t know what he’s up to with Rhodes and he’s promised-.”

“I know Bucky, I know, but Courtesans can have their own life, you know. They aren’t sex slaves, they can be in relationships outside of their trade,” Steve says and has no idea why he’s saying it. What the hell is he thinking?

“You really want that? You want to share someone like that?” Bucky twists his face and his brows furrow. He’s getting that look he used to get back in the day when Steve would be tortured by long attacks of his asthma with his weak heart causing him to have the cold sweats. 

But the truth is Bucky’s right. “I know, I know – just don’t worry about me, Buck, okay? Take care of yourself, and your dame.”

Bucky bows his head and chuckles low under his breath. “Seriously, man, you have got to get with the program here. Dame? Really? Let Natasha hear that and you’ll be the engine grease Bruce’s got under his nails.”

Steve slaps Bucky on the back. “Go, I’ve gotta make sure the ship’s all secure, if we’re all going to be on the station.”

Bucky starts walking backwards and salutes to Steve. “Be good Cap.”

“I’m going to watch the races, you know,” Steve says and heads off to do the final check. He watches as his crew mates pack up and head off the ship. He only wishes it was an actual planet to rest on, it seems like forever since they’ve actually had any relaxation on a planet. 

He completes the final checks in the Engine room and then exits to find only Tony, Pepper, and a small army of deck workers hanging out in his cargo hold. They’re loading up a cart with Tony’s luggage, which seems to be enough for anyone not to have to wash their underwear for a whole year. He smiles and crosses the distance between them.

“Ready, Captain my Captain?”

Steve goes to pick up his duffle and briefly considers if he should go back to get his shield. 

“No, no, dearheart, you have to escort me not lug bags around,” Tony says. Pepper gives him a reassuring nod that it’s protocol. Steve feels a little like a fish out of the water. Elite class protocols have always been a mystery to him. Tony claps his hands, looks at the workers, and says, “Looks like we’re ready, Captain?”

Steve nods and Tony steps up to him, slipping his arm around Steve’s bent elbow. “Escort away, dear Captain.”

Steve tries to pretend the heat doesn’t show on his face, but he knows he’s failing miserably because Pepper is positively amused by the entire thing. But her eyes are sweet and he only purses his lips and shrugs at her enjoyment.

Leading Tony down the ramp way, Steve guides him to the screening area where he’s ushered through so fast that Steve understands his previous impatience with the process on the slavers station. A small young woman comes out to greet them. Her eyes are a light green color and her skin shines with its beautiful darkness.

“Sir Stark, it is quite a joy to greet you here at the Chromes. We are especially blessed to have a whole section of the Upper Domes vacated upon your arrival,” she says.

“Thank you so much,” Pepper replies. “You’ve done us a great service?” She leaves the questioning tone in her voice.

“You may call me, Savia, I will be responsible for your pleasant stay. If you need anything I will attend to it.”

“Thank you, would it be possible to see our rooms?” Pepper asks.

“I’ve already had the rest of your party assigned and ushered to their rooms,” Savia says. “Come this way. You’ll be able to see a good amount of the station as we pass from the docking bays to the main stem of the station.”

She isn’t wrong. As they walk along the major branched arm of the station toward the main trunk of it, Steve sees the whole of the Chromes. It is a multilayered station which does remind him of a tree with its main trunk, branches off of it, and upon each of the branches the domes sit like a flowering tree. Each dome like a bud, some open like petals from a flower. The reflected light on the metal of the domes colors them in surreal images that appeals to the artist in Steve.

“Quite beautiful, Captain?” Tony says and smiles at him as he leans in close as if they are partners, as if they are lovers.

Steve’s able to grunt out a reply; it’s meaningless but he doesn’t care. He’s been to the Chromes before but usually he hangs out at the dock or goes to the lower levels, and the transport there is far less wondrous. He’s happy his crew gets such a show, but then it occurs to him he has no idea where his crew is.

“The crew? Where are they housed?” Steve says, half expecting Savia to inform him his crew has been delegated to the lower domes.

“They’ll be alongside your main dome, Captain Rogers. Or should I refer to him as Companion, Ms. Potts?” 

“Whatever, the Captain feels most comfortable with,” Peppers says. Before Steve’s able to answer, Pepper adds, “Using Companion has its perks.”

“Captain Rogers will be fine,” Steve says and notices the crinkle of amusement in Tony’s eyes. 

When they reach the main trunk of the station, Savia guides them to a lift. “We’ve secured the upper most domes for you and your party, Sir Stark.”

Steve frowns. He’s fairly certain that the Stark Corp had been falling out of favor and even left the Big Three because of faltering sales and issues with management. Why Tony commanded such treatment is a puzzlement to him. It might be the Courtesan status or something else. Steve doesn’t know, the whims of the Elite class have always been confounding to him.

By the time they exit the elevator and end up on the upper most level of the Chromes station, Steve’s awe grows exponentially. The view of the nebula, of the nascent planets thrills him and he finds he has to catch his breath as they cross over the transparent bridge to the residential domes.

Savia smiles and waves them to their dome. The workers carrying their luggage disappeared but Steve can only surmise they will be loading the luggage and supplies to the room through service elevators and transports. They stop first at a smaller dome.

“This will be your residence while with us, Ms. Potts,” Savia says and waves her hand over the keypad. “Please input your iris and thumb print for identification once you’ve entered. I will be with you in a moment.”

“Thank you,” Pepper says and lifts her shoulders with a smile. “See you soon.” She flicks her fingers at them as the door slides closed.

“And here are your rooms,” Savia says and directs them down the branch to the main dome of the level. She goes through the same routine to open the door and it glides soundlessly to the side. Steve enters and escorts Tony into the room. “You’ll need to code the room to your imprints, as well.”

Tony waits and glares meaningfully at Steve. 

“Oh, oh, sure, yes we’ll do that straight away,” Steve says.

Before them the room is oval and stretches out to the encompassing nebula. The windows cover nearly hundred and eighty degrees of the room, allowing for an expansive view of the gases and colors. The station sets far enough away that the gases from the nebula do not obscure the view of the stars being birthed or the rocks and planets circling. It is a rich, treasure trove of mining and resources. 

“This is the main living room area,” Savia says. “To the right side of the door you will find the bar and kitchen area. I can prepare food for you, or if you desire I can order a top of the line chef.”

“I don’t think that’ll be-.” Steve starts but Tony purses his lips at him. “I’m not a mind reader Tony, if you want-.”

Savia makes a little yelp sound and Steve jumps at it.

Tony leans over and whispers in Steve’s ear. “Sir Stark, when in company, sweetheart, and it’s lovely to watch you squirm.”

It’s Steve’s turn to glower at Tony when he pulls away. Clearing his throat, Steve addresses Savia, “I think we can make do with the kitchen ourselves, Savia. But if we need you, I’ll call.”

She still acts unsettled but walks over to the fireplace which interrupts the view of the embryonic star systems. “You have a safe under the foot of the fireplace, if you need it. Also the bedroom is to the left of the door with an ensuite bathroom.”

She folds her hands and waits. “Is there anything else you require?”

“I’m not,” Steve says and Tony tugs on his arm. “Sir Stark would like something.”

“Sir Stark?”

“Reservations at the Top Dome, the Loggia, for dinner tonight. Make it for two, best table,” Tony says.

“Surely, Sir.” She bows once and then shows herself out of the dome. 

“Tony, I’m not sure this is the best idea,” Steve says as he releases Tony and spins on his heel to take in the view. There are white sofas made of some kind of material that almost seems to reflect the colors of the nebula. The lighting in the living area glitters but with a subtly that’s breathtaking. He murmurs, “I think I might break something.” Glass tables and fixtures make him feel out of place.

A hand on his arm interjects upon his self-deprecation. “Don’t baby, don’t feel out of place.”

The endearment stops him because it isn’t playful or like the other tossed about flirtatious salutations. Instead these words feel worthy, feel real and natural to him. Before he’s able to say Tony’s name, the Courtesan drags him down into a kiss. 

The kiss shouldn’t surprise him, but it does. In his head he knows this is all kinds of wrong, that he should shove Tony away. In his head that is what he does. In reality, he allows Tony his advantage, tastes the peppermint on his breath and the scratch of his beard against Steve’s newly shaven skin. He pursues and is pursued. He doesn’t plan anything, allows the rawness, the primal emotion to conquer him and he’s grabbing at Tony, wishing he knew how to disrobe him, but he doesn’t so he concedes to pummeling his mouth, then working his way along the ridge of his jaw to the hollow of his throat. 

From the first time he laid eyes on Tony he’s wanted this, and he admits it freely and wantonly. Tony isn’t leading at this moment; he’s supple and willing in Steve’s hands, guiding his fingers to the clasps at the throat, to the hook and eye bindings of the jacket. He licks and suckles as he works the jacket off. Before he knows it, he glides the jacket down Tony’s arms to the floor. He searches Tony’s expression, sees it is only open and eager. Steve swallows down his urgency, realizing this isn’t how he wants it to be – hot and quick. He wants to make love to Tony, if this is all he gets; he wants it to be memorable, not a bang in the night.

Backing off, he pants and tips his forehead against Tony’s. “I want you.”

Tony feathers light kisses along the curve of his shoulder. He only has a tank t-shirt on and his pants, the beautiful jacket lies crumpled on the floor. Steve caresses the silk of the tank and shivers as he thinks about it – how it catches on Tony’s nipples, how it would feel against his own. 

“If you didn’t get it, I want you, too.”

Steve nods and closes his eyes. “I want you, but-.”

A smooth hand against his face and Tony cradles his jaw. “No buts, don’t think about it.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Tony whispers and drags his tongue up against Steve’s throat near his ear. Into his ear he says, “Don’t think about it, think only about the touch. Feel me against you.” Tony presses and Steve shudders because he recognizes the hard length of Tony against his leg. “I want you, you want me. It doesn’t have to be anything more.”

The words tantalize and hurt at the same time. They pierce through enough that Steve steps away and says, “Tony, I can’t just-.”

Tony puts his finger against Steve’s lips. “I know, Captain, I understand. But tonight we’re going to pretend it’s just this, later when you wake up and I wake up we’ll know it’s not – that it is something else, but we’re not going to admit it. We’re going to pretend. We’re going to play the game because we have to.”

“We don’t.”

“Yes, yes we do,” Tony says and slides his hand down the line of Steve’s uniform. “I love a man in uniform, Captain.”

Steve hears the words, knows what they mean, but focuses solely on the word _love_ because it means so much. Tony does a little jerk of his hips and the grate of the fabric of his uniform shifts against his hardening erection.

“Let me help you take your ease, Captain,” Tony says. Suddenly Steve’s belt falls away and his pants are undone. “Let me help you relax and find out what this can all be for only a few days.”

As Tony slips his hand into Steve’s waistband he pushes downward and frees him from the confines of his undershorts. But Steve stays his hand and says, “If this is all we get I want it to be special.”

“I’ll make it special for you, Captain,” Tony says and Steve doesn’t doubt him. But that isn’t the point.

“I want it to be special for both of us,” Steve says and reaches down to tugs his pants back on. It is painful and hard, but it is necessary. Just as he does, Tony opens his mouth as if to protest and then something falls over his expression. Not a concealment but a revelation.

“Oh,” Tony says and the lascivious smile he had pasted on his face falters, breaks, and turns into something authentic and lovely to behold. “You are a wonder, aren’t you?”

Steve bursts out with a giggle that he’s far too old for but Tony joins him and he feels something deep and alarming uncoil inside. 

Tony pops up onto his tiptoes and kisses Steve’s cheek. “Then we do this your way.” 

Just as Steve’s about to ask, the door slides open and Pepper waltzing in. She’s mid-sentence before she notices their state of undress. “We have to check in with your sponsor but we also need to make a call to the Gui-. Oh, oh, I’m. What are you doing?”

Steve yanks up his pants and zips and snaps before she’s even finished with her sentence. “Ma’am.”

“Tony, you shouldn’t- why are you doing this now?” Pepper looks everywhere but at Steve.

“Pep, Pep, calm down before you bust an artery or something,” Tony says as he races to her side. “The Captain and I – we’re just playing around. Right, Capsicle?”

“Right, yes, ma’am. No harm,” Steve says and while he understands the need for privacy, the fact that Tony wants to hide it from Pepper breeds discontent and guilt in Steve’s gut.

“I just-I didn’t expect it, that’s all. You can do what you want, Tony,” Pepper says. 

Tony goes over and scoops up his jacket. He drapes it over the arm of a chair and then walks over to the bar. “Drink, Captain?”

Steve shakes his head, and points to the bedroom. “I’m just going to check out the accommodations.”

Tony raises a bottle to him and then sets about discussing his current schedule with check-ins for his sponsor and the Guild. Steve disappears into the next room. Walking into the vestibule, he enters the bedroom which is nearly as large as the living room. He scans the area, opens doors to find the bathroom, the closets, and a sitting room. He turns back and realizes there’s only one bed.

Is a Companion expected to sleep with a Courtesan? It can’t be, Pepper was genuinely surprised to see them in a state of undress. He can’t figure it out. He notices his duffle bag sits in the room as well as one of Tony’s suitcases. Maybe one of the other rooms off the main room is an additional bedroom. Grabbing the bag, he leaves the master bedroom to seek out the other bedroom.

When he gets into the main living room area again, the sheer beauty of the crystal light fixtures, the glass tables and shelves, the white sofas with footstools takes his breath away again. He pauses only for a moment. Tony is at the door with Pepper, she whispers something and then exits. 

“Where are you going?”

Steve frowns and then remembers he’s carrying his bag. “To find the other bedroom.”

“There’s only one.”

“One?”

“Yes, good Captain, you are sleeping with me.” 

“But, are all Companions supposed to sleep with Courtesans?” Steve asks and he’s vaguely disappointed.

“On the contrary, not at all,” Tony says and knocks back the rest of his drink. “Before we go to dinner I am going to shower, care to join me?” 

Steve only shakes his head and looks away. Why he’s so embarrassed after Tony felt him up and kissed him is ridiculous. But he is. He stays in the living room, settling on the sofa and listening to the shower. He digs out his sketch book and his colored pencils to play with the light playing over the crystals and glass of the room. He loses himself in task, feeling his shoulder release their tension and his mind unravel from the pressures.

“It’s quite beautiful,” Tony says, startling Steve. 

Peering up behind him, Steve strains his neck to see Tony. With only a towel on, the stunning glory of Tony’s physique gathers all the tension he’d thought he lost into a tight ball in the pit of his belly. Tony bends down and kisses Steve, chaste on the lips and then straightens. “I’m going to get dressed, would you check on the reservations?”

He pads across the room back into the bedroom with a slight hitch in his step. Steve frowns and wants to ask but Tony waves him away and tells him to hurry. Steve searches around the apartment and finds the console near the bar. He steps up to it, and immediately Savia appears like an apparition. 

“How many I be of assistance, Captain Rogers?”

“We’d like to know about the reservations?”

“Courtesan Sir Stark and Companion Rogers have reservations at the Loggia in thirty standard minutes, should I tell them to wait on you or change the time?”

“No need,” Steve says. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The images flickers and fades.

He finishes cleaning up his drawing pad and pencils, and then walks to the suite. Tony is dressing in another Sherwani, but this one is a dark navy color with braided embellishments of gold up and down the collar and along the seams and cuffs. Not for the second or even third time Steve is rendered speechless.

“Will you,” Tony says and shows the Courtesan medallion to Steve. The chain hangs from his open hand. 

Steve nods and stands by Tony’s side. He clutches the medallion in his hand and looks at the fine craftsmanship of the worked metal. Tony turns his back and waits as Steve wraps his hand around Tony, with the medallion linking them. As he locks the clasp in place, he finds his hand shake. Knowing he’ll be delivering Tony to someone who even Tony fears, someone named Ultron throws him into a well of despair. He doesn’t know Ultron; he needs to figure it out, find out who this person might be. 

“Hey, hey, where are you?” Tony says as he turns to face Steve.

“Sorry,” Steve says with a weak smile. 

Tony touches his face, lingering with a thumb to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I want this to be special, too, Captain. I picked this suite so we could be together. I don’t believe in love, I don’t believe in good things. I’ve only seen the bad, maybe that’s why.” He presses a kiss to Steve’s lips with only a tease of a tongue. “But then I met you, watched you, and I can almost believe, Captain, almost.”

He breathes Tony’s breath and murmurs, “What will it take for you to believe?”

“You tell me, Captain.”

A buzz rings in the apartment and a voice announces five minutes until their reservation at the Loggia. 

Steve only sighs and smiles as Tony quickly finishes preparing. He combs his hair into submission and trims his beard in seconds. 

“Are you ready?” Tony asks as he joins Steve.

“Me? I wasn’t the one running around.”

“No, I mean you realize as the Companion what you role is?”

“I’m starting to,” Steve says and rolls his eyes. He’d rather stay in, have an intimate dinner, have time to know Tony. Yet, the anticipation of what may come tonight tightens his chest as if he might have an asthma attack. 

“As Companion, you need to ensure everyone respects me, and that I’m taken care of,” Tony says.

“That’s a pretty fine racket you got going there.”

“Don’t I know it,” Tony says with a wink, all of his maudlin talk forgotten. “Let’s go.”

Steve offers his arm and they depart. “I hope you know where we’re going because I don’t.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been there before,” Tony says and they take a shift lift that moves them diagonally from one branch, through the trunk, and into another branch to the furthest limb of the station. 

Situated at the tip is the Loggia, a quiet restaurant. Steve leads Tony to the entrance, placing his free hand on Tony’s as it curls around his bicep. Savia meets them at the archway to the restaurant, leading them through the multiple arches toward the outermost table. Steve peers around and sees no one else in the place and he frowns. There’s only one table.

“Are you sur-.”

“Shh,” Tony says.

Steve follows direction and Savia gestures toward the table. Tony settles in first and then Steve, after placing Tony’s napkin on his lap, sits in his chair which is not exactly opposite Tony’s, but closer to him. Savia retrieves wine glasses and pours them each a glass. It’s a Cabernet, but Steve doesn’t know much about wines so he thinks it might be wasted on him. 

When Savia moves off and they are left to review the menu, Tony says, “The Loggia is a special restaurant. It caters to a distinct clientele who might want to be alone with their partner.”

Steve wants to state that they are not partners, but the thrill of it, the thought of Tony considering him in such a way prickles through him. He can only barely get out a grunt because his breathing isn’t quite right. He needs to focus and calm down. He needs to get his head on straight, like Bucky would say to him. 

Dinner goes by in a blur of succulent tastes and poorly veiled innuendo. Tony enjoys his discomfiture a little more than is necessary, but Steve finds it charming in the end. Every now and again, Tony seems distracted and fidgety during the night. Steve worries that he might bore Tony and tries harder to engage him. Tony only smiles in return.

While Steve is expected to intercept any direct interaction with anyone other than himself for Tony, it is Tony who spends the dinner catering to Steve’s needs. A flush of embarrassment comes over him when Tony feeds him what he calls the snails of delight which are smothered in some kind of sauce that melts in his mouth. He uses words like real potatoes, butter, filet. All of which Steve has encountered previously, none of which he’s ever tasted. Such is the life of a kid from the Rims.

“Except for the snails, I kept it pretty simple and straightforward, I imagine you’re a meat and potatoes kind of guy,” Tony says and offers a spoon of something off white and a mix of solid and liquid. “Go on, Captain, try it.”

Steve leans over and allows Tony to place the spoon in his mouth; it is surprisingly cold. He jerks back, but doesn’t lose a drop of the substance melting in his mouth. Cold like ice and snow hits him first. Yet, it is sweet and thick, but there’s a distinct texture to it not like snow – nothing like snow. He can only liken the density of it to some of the sauces the sisters would use to make the food eatable back in the orphanage. But this, this is so much better. It tingles and dances in his mouth, the cold along with the sweet thickness bounces in his mouth.

He swallows it and smiles. “What is that?” He puts his fingers to his lips.

“Ice cream, dear Captain.”

“That’s like the food of the gods,” Steve says and realizes he said it out loud.

“You are completely adorable, and no, it isn’t. That’s ambrosia.” 

“What’s ambrosia?” Steve asks as Tony pushes the bowl of ice cream over to him. He tries not to look like an animal as he eats it. He thinks he fails. Miserably.

Tony laughs and the lines around his eyes crinkle and his shoulders hunch up. “You are wonderful. I could imagine teaching you about life for the rest of my life.” He becomes slightly somber as he lifts a cloth napkin and wipes Steve’s lips. “But unfortunately, we only have these few days. Meanwhile, let’s get you more ice cream.”

Steve never really understands why they have to eat in a restaurant without anyone else present, but he appreciates the ability to relax and forget about the worries of someone seeing him. He likes to just sit back and watch Tony, listen to all of his crazy ideas about technology and where it needs to be to help and not harm humanity. He chatters on and on about his grandiose plans, and then sighs as if he’ll never see them come to fruition. In some ways, Steve feels as if he’s found a kindred spirit. When he accepted the risk of Project Rebirth, he hoped for a better world, as Captain America fighting the Hydra Corp, he wished for success and battled to get it. Now, as a disenfranchised outdated hero, relic of a lost time, he only has wistful thinking and promises of a better world. He feels like he gave up on his dreams, but here’s Tony before him still dreaming, still seeing a future worth it.

“Hey, where’d you go again?”

Steve only shakes his head and decides to be bold, take what he wants for once. He reaches out and lays his hand on Tony’s. “Can we get out of here?”

Tony looks at him, his eyes stilled and luminous in the iridescent lighting of nebula. He stretches out toward Steve, and lines a caress along his cheek. “You will be my corruption.”

“You’re already mine,” he whispers.

There is no delay. They find their way back to the rooms without a word spoken between them. Tony holds onto Steve’s arm. Steve likes the heat of it, the presence of Tony next to him as they enter the room and he does not protest when Tony leads him into the bedroom suite.

“I wanted to give you the entire Courtesan treatment, Captain, but tonight – let’s just be the two of us.”

Steve doesn’t reply, because he has no idea what the Courtesan treatment really entails. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t want special treatment, he only wants Tony. Yet, it burns in his heart that Tony doesn’t believe in love. So, Steve tells himself, it isn’t love – it’s just lust. He reminds himself what Bucky said – he needs to get laid. 

As he stands in the middle of the suite, with a bed like no other he’s ever seen before – it is mammoth in size, has drapery of a gauzy fabric hanging about it, and a mass of pillows and cushions galore – with its lovely view of the cosmos, Steve falls into Tony’s embrace. It feels right and good, and he tries not to let it be more than what it is. But he fails, because for him it is more. He kisses not just with his lips, not just with his hands and body, but with the aching deep part of him that desires Tony to be his – all the time – not for a make-believe time. 

Cradling Tony’s head in his hands, he suddenly feels too big and too small all at once. As if his meager experience won’t be enough for Tony, as if his drive and need are too much to sustain. Tony answers his unspoken concern by enveloping him in his arms, holding him tightly yet at the same time stroking through his hair, pursuing his kiss with airy moans.

He drifts in a time that speeds up and slows down, he can’t control it. For in one second, clothes are shed in a flurry of motion while in the next moments he lies on the bed side by side searching and seeking out every sensitive spot on Tony. He hovers over Tony as he lies on his side and he trails kisses along his throat to his chest. Gently he guides Tony onto his back and begins again, starting with the lips, then the eyes, then he finds his way to the hollow of his throat where it could tickle but now only entices. He glides downward, feeling the drag of his motion on his erection, he hisses out a breath because of the pain and pleasure mixed. 

As he settles against Tony, letting his cock line up, hip to hip, Steve shivers and Tony reaches up and strokes fine and softly along his flank.

“What do you want, sweetheart? You want it soft, or do you want it hard?” Tony murmurs and he looks a bit drunk with the feeling and it warms Steve in deep dark places to elicit such a response from Tony. 

“I want it true,” Steve says and leaves it at that.

The words must startle Tony because, for a second, he seems off put, stunned into silence but then he works something out in his head and a slow easy smile comes to his lips. “Then show me what it’s like to be true, Captain.”

It might be a challenge for all the wickedness glinting in Tony’s eyes, but Steve takes it more as an invitation to prove more than just himself, but to show Tony there is such a thing as love. Cradling Tony in his arms, he slides down and kisses his way along Tony’s collar bone, all the while letting his hardened cock drag flesh against flesh, precome leaking as he moves. Steve continues, licking and kissing as he does until he encounters Tony’s arc reactor. He has no idea what it’s for, but Tony’s sensitive to its presence, so he slows and looks up, questioning with his eyes.

Tony relents and nods but rests his head on the pillow and looks up at the gathered fabric in the canopy of the bed. Tentatively Steve reaches out and brushes his lips against the ridge of healed skin along the reactor. He feels the rough scarring, and knows this is not a job done by a surgeon at first. While he can see the repair work done, the original incision was not by an expert. He graces the line of it with kisses, lingering with his tongue, waiting for a response from Tony. As he eases over to his nipples and licks with short nips, Tony hisses and arches. 

The reaction sends a bolt of excitement, of electricity straight to Steve groin and he groans against the feel of it. The undulation of Tony against him intoxicates him and he longs for more. He wants the rising feeling in him, the tide of need to wash over him, but not to stop, to continue to build. It rakes inside of him. Steve works at Tony’s nipples, playing with the buds until he’s gritting his teeth and whimpering, until he’s grabbing at Steve’s ass, clenching it hard and pulling him into a fierce kiss. 

All the hunger of years untouched eats away at him and in turn he ravages Tony’s mouth. He doesn’t just want to show him the truth; he wants Tony to consume the truth with him. If it means he must sacrifice parts of himself to Tony he goes willingly. 

Tongues and teeth fight for dominance as Steve is arching, begging Tony to touch him. Somehow Tony gets the advantage which Steve thinks is ridiculous but wonderful. Tony hangs over him, his hands groping lower, his teeth nibbling at the tender places of Steve’s neck, his nipples, the indent of his waist. Tony mouths everything but still doesn’t touch his cock. 

“Tony, please,” Steve says and feels the curl of want and yearning tighten in his pelvis, feels the thickness heavy in him. Stroking his hand down Tony’s flank to his stomach, Steve places his hand against Tony’s underbelly and circles fingers around his dick. Tony tsks a few times and slips his hands against Steve’s. He thinks Tony is trying to grip their cocks together, but instead Tony interlaces his fingers with Steve’s and pulls his hand away, much to his chagrin.

“Please,” Steve says and tilts up his hips to get better leverage. 

“You beg so beautifully, my dear,” Tony says and drags his tongue up from Steve’s chest to his tender throat. He suckles as Steve squirms beneath him. “Tell me something, Captain.”

“Anything.”

Tony captures both of Steve’s hands and lifts them above his head on the bed. He straddles Steve and smiles down at him. His dick just inches from Steve’s mouth, he finds himself hungry again, with a dirty want and need, and he wants to suck it, to feel the velvet of the skin on his tongue. He wants to taste the bitterness of his precome as it slithers out and lines the head, then down to the base. He watches as the drips follow the ridge of it and the vein. 

“Tell me what the truth really is,” Tony teases and releases one of Steve’s hands, though he does not bring it down to block Tony. 

Tony grasps his dick and takes the head of it to line Steve’s lower lip. Steve darts his tongue out to taste the semen painted across his lip and then opens up, knowing he’s asking and begging within the lure of his eyes.

Tony answers by slowly, tantalizingly sliding his dick into Steve’s mouth. He pushes forward, and murmurs to Steve, “All the way, baby, loosen up and take me all the way.”

He only waits for a few seconds for Steve to relax his throat and then he pushes in with a solid thrust. It brings tears burning to Steve’s eyes but he welcomes the abrasion of Tony’s dick against the back of his throat. His mouth waters for it, his vision funnels down, and he closes his lips over it, wishing so much he could see how the girth of it spreads open his lips. He thinks about it spreading his ass and it only causes a jolt of hot, wet desire to shudder through him. 

“Concentrate on what you’re doing, my dearest Captain,” Tony says but his words are not unkind, they are raw with hunger and when Steve looks up he glimpses a rare moment of exposed nerve as Tony allows himself to enjoy the ecstasy of the feeling as he pumps into Steve’s mouth. The look of abandon, of heated need overcomes Steve that he groans around Tony’s erection. Tony hitches a breath against Steve and then balances his hands on the headboard, measuring his thrusts into Steve’s mouth. But Steve wants more, he wants to be smothered by Tony, overtaken by him, and so he shifts his hands, and grabs onto Tony’s hips to encourage him.

He feels the gag of it and lets go; allowing his throat to become pliant, used, and abused by Tony’s rhythm. He hums and moans as Tony continues, feeling the strength of each thrust at the back of his throat and through the clenching of Tony’s ass under his hands. In a streak of frenzied thrusts, Tony jerks and rasps but then stops, forcing himself not to come down Steve’s throat. It is all Steve can do to not mourn the loss of Tony’s girth in his mouth when he glides out. 

“Not yet, my dear Captain.”

Tony heaves and staggers, stumbling off of Steve, and flopping to the side. Immediately, Steve pummels his mouth, sharing the taste of Tony with him. Even through the haze of his own desire, Tony welcomes Steve’s kiss, warring with him in a playful loving way. 

Steve presses against Tony, and the friction feels delightful, helpless, and torturous at the same time. He pumps his hips against Tony a few times and feels a smile spread across Tony’s face. 

“You want everything right away, don’t you?” Tony says when he manages to break away from Steve.

“Everything, anything,” Steve says searching out Tony’s expression, trying to gage whether or not he’s pleased. If anything, Steve only wants to please Tony. 

“Then how about you slip your fingers in and take out the plug I have in?”

It stuns Steve. “Wh-what?” 

“Before, when I took the shower, I got myself ready,” Tony says and glides Steve’s hand to the crevice of his ass. Steve feels the nib of the plug at Tony’s pucker. Just the thought of it sends Steve beyond his dreams, far past the nebula that shines and glitters its light throughout the room. 

“Can I, can I see?” Steve says and his face heats. Why after having Tony’s dick in his mouth he’d feel so abashed over asking is insane, but it is true.

Tony shuffles up and kisses Steve’s nose as he says, “Why, of course, dear Captain.” He turns around and gets on hands and knees, and then drops his head to his folded arms with his ass presented. 

His skin is glorious with rivets of sweat staining it. The curve of his ass, the rich tones of his skin set Steve on fire. He’s very nearly frightened of looking, of seeing the butt plug in Tony. So, he places his pale hand that’s slightly red and flushed against Tony’s hip, caresses the curve and muscle, and then sees the plug as he fondles Tony. 

“Captain, if you don’t touch it soon, I am going to be vastly disappointed,” Tony says and rocks back into Steve’s grazing touch. 

The shape of his ass is a beautiful curve and the way Tony arches his back somehow seems graceful and sensual at the same time. Inspired Steve leans down and kisses along Tony’s pucker, running line upon line of kisses. He feels as Tony shivers under his touch. Something inside of Steve rides the rhythm, the sway of the kisses, how Tony moans and shakes under his hands and lips. 

As he brushes past the plug, he flicks his tongue once, then twice, enough for Tony to groan in response. Then he catches the nib of it with his teeth and slowly pulls it out. The coil of want twists so tightly, so hard in his gut he feels all air escape his lungs and, for a brief moment, thinks he might lapse into an asthmatic attack. He wants nothing more than to shove his cock deep into Tony, ride him until he’s desperate and needy. But he cannot do this without facing Tony, he wants to watch him come apart, he wants to share the moments in time when he tells him what truth is.

He discards the plug and eases Tony over onto his back. Tony tosses him a small ring. He raises an eyebrow at it.

“You probably still use the archaic lube and condoms – this is my invention. Put it on, my Captain, and it will sheath you and coat you as well, constantly throughout. Once you’re done just snap it off.”

Steve chuckles. “Wow.” He slips the ring on and expects it will be too tight, but it automatically adjusts to his width. Instantly, his erection gleams with lubrication.

“Care to show me what romance is, my Captain?”

“I care to show you a whole hell of a lot, my Courtesan,” he says and leans in for a kiss. It is long and languid as if they are just kissing, as if they have no intention of going any farther. He takes his time kissing Tony, he tries to memorize the details, the scratch of his beard, the way Tony likes to nibble and bite, the roughness of Tony’s hands along his biceps. He wants to pretend just for these moments that the words _my Courtesan_ ring true.

As Steve parts from the kiss, Tony’s eyes are wide and searching, his pupils dark and large in the dim lighting. “Make me yours, Captain.”

“Always,” Steve murmurs and he slips inside of Tony with one firm and confident stroke. He watches Tony’s reaction, the intake of breath, the startled pleasure mixed with the stretch and burn of pain. Settling into the rhythm as Steve rocks into Tony, he wraps his legs around Steve’s waist and grabs onto his arms.

Steve arches over Tony, like a shelter. Their lips are centimeters apart; Steve can hear and feel every breath Tony takes. He moves in time to it, measuring each stroke with an inhalation of air and then pulls out again with the release. The drag of it drives him into a slow frenzy that balls up in his belly, knotting and tightening, until he grits his teeth and tips his forehead to touch Tony’s. 

As if in answer to his agonizing pace, Tony yanks Steve forward and thrusts him. Tony hitches a breath and quakes under Steve. He murmurs something in Steve’s ear, but he doesn’t quite make out what it is. Again, he uses his heels against Steve’s back to hasten his speed.

“Fuck me, Captain, hard, fuck me.”

The tension curls tendrils in his belly, reaching deep into his groin and he slams into Tony. Tony rasps out a cry and Steve repeats it. Tony shivers under him as if he’s experiencing slivers of hot fingers trailing up and down his body. He’s hyper-alert, arching into Steve, begging Steve. 

“What you do to me, baby, damn it,” Tony says and he looks tormented, as if it had all been a game before, a conquest and he finally realizes that it isn’t. This is real. The thought, the possibility that Tony is his, that Tony wants this as much as Steve does smashes into him like a fist to the chest. And he’s falling, crashing into Tony in a fury of motion and need. 

Barriers melt down and he’s filling Tony. Just the simple act opens up everything and destroys his defenses; it is all he can do not to scream out, not to declare his wants, his yearning, his desire. It feels like forever, it feels like seconds, it feels like his body tenses taut like a bowstring. Tony claws at him and, with a final cry of his own, comes. In these moments, he becomes insubstantial and light and matter. He barely breathes as he perches over Tony, allowing the sensation to complete him, allowing his climax to overtake every sense, every perception. Until he collapses on Tony, a simple quake and he rolls off, his nerves still shaking as the high slowly melds into a languorous high.

Tony slides onto his side, their sweat slick bodies touching flesh upon flesh and Steve welcomes it. He threads his fingers through Tony’s hair, pets his back, and closes his eyes. Concentrating only on his breathing, the in and out, he quiets. Slumber teases at the edge of his consciousness, very nearly compelling him into its embrace. 

“Are you sleeping, my Captain?”

Steve plays with an answer, but the exhaustion captures him, and he remains silent.

Tony draws a light finger over Steve’s pectoral, and then rests it across his heart. “Sleep, dear Captain.” Steve stays still, thinking he might just sleep, but then Tony speaks again to his resting form. “You’ve corrupted me, Captain, how am I ever going to do my duty now? How?” Tony pauses, “How am I going to do my duty when I love you?”

He’s about to reply when Tony continues, “Damn you, you’ll never forgive me when I break your heart.”


	13. Chapter 13

He falls into a quiet reverie as the days linger and stretch and he ignores the persistence of his duties, his obligations. For just these moments, he is free of his debt to society, to the Feds, to SHIELD. He lies back with Tony draped over him. The light breeze from the air circulation plays with the delicate fabric of the bed’s canopy. He cannot remember the last time he suffered such luxury; he laughs – he’s never experienced such treats and extravagance in his life. 

“Oh my Captain, what tickles you?” Tony says as he rings a circle on Steve’s chest – in the center as if he’s subconsciously drawing an arc reactor implanted there. 

“Just wondering,” Steve says and closes his eyes. He shouldn’t wonder, he shouldn’t ask, because there lies the road to destruction and anxiety. He hates the thought of it, of what is to come. 

“Stop wondering, you’re hurting my head,” Tony says and continues to draw phantom reactors on Steve’s chest. 

Leaning down, he kisses the crown of Tony’s head and nuzzles in – the scent of Tony is narcotic and addictive. He threads his fingers through Tony’s hair and smiles. He clasps his other hand over Tony’s as he rings Steve’s chest.

“Are you going to tell me?” Steve whispers, keeping his voice low and non-threatening.

“Tell you what,” Tony says, and props his chin on his fisted hand to look at Steve. “That you are like an ancient god, that your shoulder to waist ratio is obscene, and that you are everything my heart desired, if I had a heart?”

“You don’t have a heart?” Steve says and his words are serious, mixed with concern.

Tony jerks a little at Steve’s reaction, but instantly laughs it off and throws his head back on to the pile of pillows, effectively capturing Steve’s arm underneath his weight. “Oh, poor Captain, whatever shall you do, you’ve fallen for a heartless bastard.”

“You are not heartless,” Steve says.

“But I’m a bastard?” Tony replies and lets his hand wander farther down to Steve’s underbelly, to tangle in his curls. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I don’t know if you should,” Steve says and then the warmth of the moment softens his levity. “You would never be a bastard to me, Tony.”

Tony cuddles up to Steve’s side, stilling his hand and speaking outward to the stars. “That’s what you say now.”

Steve swallows down the meaning, the heaviness of the words and, instead, asks, “So, you’re not going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“The arc reactor?” Steve says and slides his hand between them to feel the slight amount of heat given off by the reactor. It isn’t much, and he would suppose most people would not be able to differentiate the heat variance between Tony’s body temperature and the elevated heat produced by the reactor. He thinks he can tell because of the serum. His senses are all pronounced even touch, which comes in handy for some things. He smiles. 

“The reactor, oh where to begin?” Tony throws a hand up to his eyes as if he’s distressed but he’s really joking. When Steve doesn’t just laugh it off, Tony sighs, drops his arm, and says, “I guess at the beginning. But first, know that I don’t go telling everyone this, not even my sponsors.”

“What do your sponsors know about it?”

“Little to nothing. They only know that part of the contract stipulates that they can’t touch it, alter it, replace it, or remove it. All that jazz.”

“Why?” Steve asks and his heart skips a few beats because he has to admit the tinge of fear regarding the answer.

“It essentially keeps me alive.”

“So, it is your heart?”

Tony picks up Steve’s hand and places it over his left pectoral. “You tell me, darling, if I have a heart.” 

Steady and true, Tony’s heart beats a rhythm under Steve’s palm. This is verification and validation. Even when Tony removes his hand, Steve keeps his in place. “Tell me, Tony.”

Tony releases a breath and says, “I think even you know I was kidnapped by the Ten Rings, that’s like ancient history on the Rag-nets. I was kidnapped, tortured, you know a good amount of angst to go in the biopics on the vids. What people don’t know too much about is why and how it all went down.”

“I thought the Ten Rings kidnapped you for ransom or something?”

“That’s Stark Corp’s official story and, well, the Main Chamber’s official story too. The real story is that the Ten Rings wanted weapons. They wanted to upset the status quo. Truth be told, I could get behind it in some cases, but not in this case.”

“They wanted weapons from Stark Corp as ransom?” Steve frowns, it seemed an awful convoluted way to go about it. There were easier ways to get weapons on the Black Market.

“No, they wanted me to build them weapons,” Tony says and he’s turned over and looking at the stars again, as if he’s seeing his past written in the swirling colors bleeding to violets. “Before, before everything I was going to university. Working on several doctorates already, had a plan.” He scrubs at his face. “But plans go awry. Circumstances beyond my control stopped everything and I ended up kidnapped by Ten Rings, and told I had to build them weapons or they would kill me.”

“What did you do?” 

“I didn’t have much choice,” Tony says as he rings the arc reactor with a fingertip. “The arc reactor saved my life because it keeps the bots inside of me from killing me.”

Steve straightens up, upsetting Tony. “Sorry, but what? I don’t understand, I don’t understand at all.”

“In order to make me do what they said, they injected me with nano-bots. They must have gotten them off the Black Market – disturbing little beasts but highly effective. These bots essentially disrupt the heart’s pacemaker. Most people don’t understand that the heart beats autonomously from the nervous system. It beats and regulates itself. It doesn’t need the brain to tell it to beat.” Tony says and sits up with Steve. “The nano-bots intercalated into my cardiac muscle fibers, and can, at any moment interrupt the cardiac pulse.”

“So the arc reactor?”

“Neutralizes the little beasts, it keeps them from actually working. The magnet influences them so that they cannot actually function. Removing them would mean heart replacement, and I’m not sure I trust anyone to do that,” Tony says.

“So Ten Rings threatened you with these bots?” Steve prompts.

“Threatened me, and for a while I actually helped them, or pretended to. One of the other prisoners, a guy named Yinsen, who everyone forgets in the biopics, helped me build this and then to escape. He gave his life for mine.” Tony looks down at his hands, his shoulders slump, the bravado thins. “And look what he got for his sacrifice?”

“Tony, don’t,” Steve says.

He scoffs. “I know what I am, Captain, no one knows it better than I do.”

“I saw you with the kids on Haven, Tony, I know what you are and I understand who you are,” Steve says and tries to put as much conviction in it as possible. He learned from his mother never to judge people from the outside; too many of the people he grew up with dealt with the nightmare of life in the Rims by doing things they were ashamed of or had no other choice to feed their families. He’d always tried to live an honorable life, but he saw and experienced what happened when people had no other choice. Something in Tony’s life made him feel as if he had no other choice.

Tony slides to the edge of the bed. He reaches for the robe and shoulders it on, and then grabs the bottle of chilled white wine, pouring himself a glass. He ties on the robe and stands. While he sips his drink he rounds the bed and gazes out the long wide windows. “You can pretend I’m something more than I am, and it’s good that the illusion works for you. That means I’m good at my job.”

It riles Steve, enough that he jumps off the bed, pulls on his own robe, and joins him, jolting Tony to face him. “I’m not your sponsor, I didn’t sign a contract for you.”

“But you took the commission, didn’t you?”

Steve staggers back, snapping his hands away from Tony’s shoulders as if he’s been burned. “What? I took the commission before I even knew you. I didn’t take it just to use you.”

Tony lowers his head and rubs the heel of his hands into his eyes. “I know that, I shouldn’t. God, I’m a screw up.” He looks up at Steve and explains, “Listen, ask Pepper, she’ll tell you. I am a fuck up. The Ten Rings screwed me up, I’m a head case and I ran away to the Guild to hide away from all of my troubles.”

“That’s not what Ms. Potts says at all.”

“What?” Tony gapes at him, stunned.

“You heard me, Ms. Potts knows who and what you are. She warned me not to look at the surface details that there’s much more to you than what the Rag-nets gossip about, and I believe her.” Steve reaches out and, with a tentative touch, places his hand back on Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony chuckles but it is low and without joviality. “Pepper sees the best in everyone.”

“Maybe so do I,” Steve says and offers a more receptive smile.

“You’re a nuisance,” Tony says and leans into Steve. 

Relishing the weight, Steve bends down and touches dry lips to Tony’s mouth. It is only a kiss, a light, feathered touch, but still it communicates his state so much more than his inadequate words. “Would you tell me something, if I asked?”

“Depends on what it is, my dear Captain,” Tony says and invites another kiss, this brings a heat to the act. It burns slow and warm through him and Steve delays all else, all thought, and concern to concentrate on it. It caresses and soothes and Steve hungers for it, wants it to last for an age. It must break, it must end, and when it does Steve tips his forehead to Tony’s and wants nothing more than to forget all of his worries, but he cannot.

“Tell me about this sponsor of yours.”

“I don’t think you want me to,” Tony says and tries to find his way through the barbed subject with another kiss, but Steve won’t have any of it.

“I need to know, Tony, I need to hear that you’ll be safe,” Steve says.

Tony stands away from Steve, yet still within his embrace. “Don’t make me lie to you.”

“Then don’t,” Steve says and he hates that it’s what he fears. “Tell me.”

“What do you want me to tell you?” Tony says. “Why do you want me to tell you about this?”

“It’s important, I need to know, I won’t deliver you to some sadist,” Steve says and he sees a defiant streak in Tony, and he knows he’s miscalculated.

“You’ll do your duty. I paid a hefty price for you to deliver me to Ultron and you’ll do what you’re paid to do,” Tony says and his words steal all the heat from the room.

“That’s uncalled for,” Steve says. “I’m asking you who this sponsor of yours is, I think I deserve that much, Tony. I think I deserve for you to be honest with me.”

“You want honesty, Captain?” Tony says and goes to the bottle of wine, pours another glass, downs it, and then addresses Steve’s fears. “You want to hear about being a Courtesan first, because you need to know that. You need to know that a Courtesan has a contract that stipulates everything and anything a sponsor can do. It’s particular and meticulous, except mine isn’t. My contract is pretty much an open slate. So my dear sponsor can do just about anything he wants to do to me. He can ignore me, whip me, use me as a fucking hole. He can god damn tie me up and leave me locked in a room for as long as he fucking wants as long as I’m fed once a day and can relieve myself. Short of selling me into slavery, my sponsor can do anything he wants.

“And you think that’s horrible? Here’s what’s worse, my dear Captain, here’s the nightmare – that one year contract, that contract which you think is only one year – well, it has a five year option on it. Add another five fucking years, what the hell do you think I’m going to be once this is over?”

“Tony,” Steve says, searching his face, begging to find something, some hope, some recourse. But there’s a resignation in Tony’s eyes, in his expression that spears Steve to the core. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“It’s my job, Captain. Why are you carting around shit from one end of Human Space to the other? You’re a fucking war hero, why are you doing that?”

At a loss for a truly meaningful answer, Steve only shakes his head. Underneath it all, he admits embarrassment seethes. He is a war hero and he’s doing nothing to change the status quo.

“This is my duty, Captain. Try and understand that,” Tony says. “I have a contract, I have to fulfill it otherwise people will pay dearly for it. This is my choice, I want to do this, I have to do this. I might whine and complain, but in the end I don’t give a fuck about the years on the contract, because it isn’t going to matter in the end. I have to do this.”

Steve finally finds his voice. “But why does the Corp hold your license?”

“That’s a long story, Captain. Suffice it to say, that I owe Stane and this is the only way I can pay it off,” Tony says refusing to elaborate further.

“But the Corp is yours,” Steve says. He’s like a dog with a bone; he can’t let it go, he wants to find a way to free Tony of the impending horror.

“Stark Corp,” Tony sneers and runs a hand through his messy hair. “It was, it still technically is. But things change and politics and lives aren’t black and white, dear Captain. When Ten Rings took me and tried to upset the balance of power, the Main Chamber didn’t like it very much. Didn’t like that they were vulnerable to some piss-ant drug runners. They especially didn’t like it that after I came back from my enlightening experience, I refused to continue with my education and working toward more weaponry for Stark Corp. They had backed Stane, even though the fucker tried to kill me.”

“Tony, no.”

“Yes, Captain, life is not black and white. The good guys are not the ones in the white hats. It doesn’t work that way, it never has. Learn that now before you go down in flames again,” Tony says and his shoulders sag as if he’s lost the will to continue the conversation. 

While he wants to pursue the conversation, find out what Tony means, and if Tony will ever be safe under the thumb of Stane (he suspects not), Steve decides it might be best to back away from the edge. Sometimes the best plan to adopt is one of surveillance and observation before action.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says.

“Why? You didn’t do anything,” Tony replies, but there’s a surrender in his tone that Steve doesn’t like.

“Yes, I did. Like you said, I’ve wandered around, kept my head low, and just command a ship. I’ve been complacent with the status quo. I might as well be one with the Main Chamber,” Steve says. It is the first time he’s let the thought come to the front of his brain, even realized that his life is not what he wants, and, that after this commission he could try for something different, he could try to make a difference. All because of Tony, and it hurt like a direct hit to the solar plexus.

Tony raises his hand and strokes the long line of Steve’s cheekbone down to his jaw line. “You do your best, Captain my Captain, and I expect when duty calls you will do what you need to do.”

“I’m not sure I can do what you’re asking me to do,” Steve says and cups his hand over Tony’s. It is warm and solid, it anchors him. “I don’t want to.”

“You will, because if you don’t,” Tony stops and takes in a deep breath. “More than just my welfare is at stake, Captain. Remember that.”

Before Steve can question him, Tony raises his fingers to Steve’s lips to quiet him. “Let’s get something to eat. I have to break this trance we’re in and do some routine check ins today.”

Steve nods and allows Tony to lead him to the table. They tuck in and the table is will appointed with a variety of foods from bacon, to different eggs, to fruits and vegetables, and breads and nuts, and pastries. Tony spends the first few minutes loading up a plate with food and commanding Steve to eat.

Huffing out his displeasure, Steve stabs at the food with his fork. He can’t be angry though, not with Tony, because in some wonderful universe this is Tony’s small way to make things right again. 

“I’m going to need to shower and then I’ll do my check ins,” Tony says as he pours cups of coffee. 

Steve continues to eat, not realizing how famished he is happens to be one of the hazardous of being a super soldier. “I have to do some routine checks on the ship too, and also the deck officer will probably want the report in as well, payments and routine docking regs.”

“Good, good, so we both have something to get done today. If you do your job, dear Captain, I’ll have a special treat for you when you return,” Tony smiles with a wink. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Tony.” Steve wants to smooth over abrading Tony’s nerves over the whole Ultron business. But he’s still determined to find out more about Ultron and get to the bottom of this contract business. Duty or no, he’s not going down without a fight. 

Tony taps the table and stands up. “Yeah, I do. I was pretty much a prick a few minutes ago. It isn’t your fault where I landed in life. I've got it under control, I know that, I should accept it. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

It occurs to Steve that Tony’s father, Howard, cast Steve in the role of war hero, savior, someone who might end the suffering of the vast majority of the human populace. To think that Tony's childhood hero ended up being a cargo hauler and nothing more, Steve drops his fork and pushes his half-full plate away. Everything seems cold and unappetizing.

Wiping his mouth, he tries not to let the bile threatening to revolt in his stomach come and make an appearance with the food he’s just consumed. “I don’t- I don’t know about that.”

“Captain, you’re tense, come on take a shower with me. I’ll blow you before you go. You’ll feel nice and relaxed.” Tony tugs at him. “Come on, let me do my job.”

It hurts, more than he wants to admit. A thousand cold fractals of ice jab into him as Tony tries to drag him to the bathroom. Suddenly the attraction, the emotions that have grown over the last few days ring false and hollow. He shakes his head. “I just want to clean up and get moving. There’s a lot I need to check in on, the crew and all. Who knows what Loki and Thor are up to.”

He frees his hand and goes to his bag, grabbing his clothes for the day – his daily captain’s jacket with the faded, threadbare star on the front. He’s sure he’ll look like a peasant, fade into the background on such a lavish styled Station. 

When he turns, Tony is right there, close and telling. “Part of who I am will always be a mistake, Captain. Don’t fall for me, it isn’t worth it.”

Before Steve gets out a response, Tony turns on his heel and marches off to the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and leaves Steve alone in the room. For a moment, a wash of abandonment overcomes him and he stands there with his clothes clutched in his hands and his heart laid out on the floor.

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve jumps and looks around the room. “What? Who? Someone from the Station?” But that isn’t right, it sounds like Tony’s A.I. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir. On the pad, sir, near the bed.” 

Steve crosses over to the table and sees the flashing pad. He picks it up and the pad speaks again. “If you would like some advice, sir?”

“What? Why? Were you listening in?” He cringes at what else JARVIS might have heard over the last days. 

“There is no need for alarm, Captain Rogers. I monitor sir at all times to ensure his health and safety. I do not eavesdrop,” JARVIS says.

Steve isn’t sure what the difference is, but decides to take JARVIS at face value – for what it’s worth since technically JARVIS doesn’t have a face. “Okay, the advice?”

“Consult Ms. Potts on sir’s history. She may be able to shed some light on your current situation and concerns.” 

“But what about you, can’t you?”

“No, I cannot.”

“Can’t or won’t,” Steve says and cannot believe he’s arguing with a pad. He corrects himself - an illegal A.I.

“I cannot, sir. It is not within my programming to divulge information that sir has qualified as confidential,” JARVIS says.

“Okay,” Steve replies and is about to discard the pad, but then stops. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“If you’re able to monitor Tony’s safety and health, would you be able to ensure he isn’t harmed during one of his Courtesan contracts?” Steve asks.

“I would not, sir,” JARVIS says and for some reason, Steve believes he detects the slightest tone of regret.

“Why not?”

“Some of the contracts sir engages in do not permit, sir to have his technical devices with him, the arc reactor notwithstanding,” JARVIS says.

“So, with the Ultron contract?”

JARVIS remains silent.

“Please, JARVIS,” Steve says.

“No, sir, is only allowed the arc reactor, clothes, and some minor personal effects which do not include me.”

Swallowing the harsh reality of it, Steve nods and places the pad back on the bedside table. Just as he turns, Tony walks out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and scrubbing at his wild hair with another towel. 

He glances up at Steve and heads toward the closet with his belongings. “Thought you would have used the other bathroom, Captain.”

“Yeah, on my way,” he says and tries not to stare at the beautiful movement of Tony’s muscles and tendons against the hot flash of skin. Marks along his neck and chest remind Steve of their activities, and somehow he wishes they would stay forever that way. Instead of saying anything more, he escapes to the other bathroom to shower and shave. By the time he’s finished, Tony’s nowhere to be found in the suite. Disappointed, he blames himself. Talking to someone he’s attracted to has never been his strongest suit.

Leaving the suite, he embarks toward the route to the docking bay to check on the Commando. He still needs to check in with his crew. He stuffs the comm link in his ear and taps it. “Bucky, Bucky?”

It takes a few tries as he journeys through the minor branches of the Station tree toward the center and then out again to the main docking bay before he’s able to connect. 

“Oh, the great Captain has come up for air. How’s the sextation?”

“What?” Steve frowns at Bucky’s voice as he stands, waiting for an elevator.

“Having fun on your sex vacation, Captain?” Bucky repeats and speaks to someone off line. “Clint says to be careful sitting down.”

“Shut up,” Steve says and rolls his eyes. He’s carting a ship load of children around with him, he swears. “Just checking in for the updates.”

“Oh, great, we’re great. Clint’s in jail, Bruce got flung out the airlock because he went ballistic when Danvers tried to check out the Engine room in the Commando. But don’t worry, Nat’s been good to this ol’boy.”

“Damn it, Bucky, if any of those are true I am going to kick your ass.”

“Why me? I’ve been doing the same thing you’ve been doing, just better and much more interesting.”

“You wanna bet?” Steve says with a smile on his face. As he enters the lift and it starts to move he adds, “Just give me the real updates, Buck.”

“Okay, you must need to get back at it then. You see, if you didn't let yourself get sex starved you wouldn’t be so anxious,” Bucky says and then flies into a litany of updates. “One thing that bothers me are the pets you took on. I can’t keep track of Loki because of his illusion tricks and Thor’s no help at all. He’s been sniffing around Danver’s ship.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, Darcy did something to him and then there was a big scuffle, and, well, it ended up with Darcy electrocuting Thor or some shit, I don’t know. Just you have to figure out how to get them in line, Steve. This is not the place we need to make a scene with them,” Bucky says.

“Okay, sure, right,” Steve says though he has no idea what action he should take to stop the madness. He can’t actually hold them prisoner on the Commando. “I’ll see if I can contact Thor. Anything else?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re doing the recerts, the prelim races, tomorrow. We’re going all out, bringing the sniper pod into play.”

“The sniper pod, Bucky, that’s dangerous,” Steve says as he steps out of the elevator car. He pauses with his hand to his ear so he can hear over the mullings about and shoutings of the crowd. Several people bump into him, but he moves to the side to listen. “I don’t think that’s worth it.”

“We’re using the racer – not the Commando pod, anyway.”

“No, Bucky, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Steve says.

“It’s worth a tons of points and credits.”

“I don’t care,” Steve replies. “We’re getting a ton of credits from this commish, you don’t have-.”

“Yes, I do, and it’s not under debate, we’re already signed up to do the race with the sniper pod.”

Dropping his hand from his ear, Steve slumps against the station support. “Fine, fine, I don’t want to hear it if you lose the other arm. We don’t have the funds to make you a special new metal one. And Bruce isn’t interested in designing a new one for you either.”

“Bruce hates servicing the one I have now,” Bucky says. “Don’t be such a prude, Steve, this is going to be great I swear it. You gonna be there, with your boyfriend?”

“Shut up, you jerk.”

“See you later, buddy. Don’t bruise your ass too much,” Bucky says.

“Same to you,” Steve says and Bucky snickers in reply as the comm link goes dead. 

Steve digs the earbud out and follows the stream of the crowd toward the docking bay. It takes a little pushing and shoving but he makes it onto the deck and hits the code to open up the Commando. A deck office waves him down and Steve goes through several check ins and pays their docking fee – too hefty but he has enough credits. He also has to do a litany of maintenance reports for the Station as well as the regulations updates from both the Station and SHIELD. It takes the better part of the day. He's happy to push it aside and go back to his ship; it feels like home. 

He climbs up the ramp way to the ship and closes it back up after he’s in the silent hull. He goes directly to the Engine room where he finds Bruce at a console studying figures and calculations.

“Hey, I thought you’d be out with the rest of the crew.”

“Crowds make me nervous,” Bruce says and doesn’t turn to look at Steve.

“What are you looking at,” Steve says and stands next to Bruce to review the schematics and numbers.

“Some of the modifications Stark made. He’s brilliant, beyond brilliant. I don’t know why he’s not using his talent. This is light years ahead of its time and just with our shitty ship.”

Steve pats the Howling Commandos framework. “He didn’t mean it, baby.”

Bruce looks over at Steve and says, “You should convince him to change trades or go back to school or-.”

“That’s not happening,” Steve says and feels the heat come to his face. He isn’t embarrassed, but more ashamed of his prying into Tony’s private life. “He doesn’t want that life.”

“And he wants the one he has now?” Bruce asks. He turns around, folds his arms and says to Steve. “Really, when he’s working down here in the Engine room he forgets everything else. This is his bliss. I don’t think anything could beat it, but you tell me.”

Steve licks his lips and puts his hands on his hips. “I don’t know, Bruce. I just don’t. The whole Ten Rings thing really changed his outlook, and he has no other choice. If he tries to take Stark Corp back, the Main Chamber, I get the feeling from what he told me this morning wouldn’t act too kindly. He’d be in danger and a lot of other people would, too.”

“They hate him that much?”

“He’s a wild card, he doesn’t want to do what they want him to do. Build more weapons. So they essentially pushed him out of his own Corp and seem to want to allow Stane to drive it into the ground, from what I understand,” Steve says. “But what’s more disturbing is his contract and license.” He knows he shouldn’t talk outside his confidential discussion with Tony, but someone has to help him sort it out. Bruce is the perfect candidate. 

“What about it?”

“Have you heard of someone called Ultron?”

“Ultron?” Bruce paces away from Steve and then comes back again. “Ultron, that’s – that’s really strange Steve.”

“Why? Who is he?”

“No one knows, no one is quite sure. No one, I mean no one talks about him.” Bruce looks at him much the same way he’d been concentrating on the console when Steve first walked in. “Why are you asking about him, Steve?”

“I need to know, okay? Just call it brushing up on my history,” Steve says and sits on the ledge of a console, being careful not to touch the instrument.

“Okay, well, you ever hear of Hank Pym?”

Steve shakes his head. He might have, but during the first months of his awakening he’d essentially been bombarded with information. He still has nightmares about it.

“Well, Pym was a brilliant scientist for the Feds. He has some affiliations with SHIELD as well, maybe even Stark Corp, back in the day. He invented these particles called pym particles.”

“Sounds a little egotistical.”

“All geniuses are to an extent.” Bruce shrugs. “These particles could warp matter using hyper dimensionality. But all of that was overshadowed by Pym’s advancement in artificial intelligence.”

“I thought that was illegal.”

“To a degree it is, and because of Pym. He created an artificial intelligence so vast, so far reaching that it became sentient, and it became obsessed with the fact humans are not perfect,” Bruce says. “It attacked the Main Chamber, it shut down the commerce of Human Space. It quite literally shut down all of interconnectivity in an effort to isolate and destroy human civilization.”

“What happened?” 

“No one is sure, no one really knows. All they know is that Pym disappeared and artificial intelligence disappeared with him. Lots of people theorize the Main Chamber assassinated him, they think that Ultron might have been responsible for getting rid of Pym.”

"But how does he fit into the whole picture?"

"Well, that's a bit of a mystery, all anyone knows is that once everything was back on line, the Main Chamber attributed the rescue and, essentially the reboot, of humanity to someone called Ultron. He never made an appearance, no one really knows."

“So Ultron is some kind of hero?” Steve says and knows it can’t be right because he’s never heard of him before this, and Tony is terrified of him.

Bruce negates his statement and heightens his concern. “No, he’s not a hero, he’s the enforcer. That’s what people called him, back in the day. He’s been like the Gestapo for the Main Chamber for years now, him or some successor. No one knows, if he's the same person or not.”

Steve feels the blood drain out of his face, and he bows his head. Tony told him that he’d picked Steve and the Commando for a reason – so that Steve would do his duty – deliver him to Ultron. Should he take Tony at face value, or is Tony asking him to save him, but how can he do that when more than Tony’s welfare is riding on his contract.

“Steve, is there something you need to talk about outside of a history lesson?” Bruce says and lightly places a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“I don’t, I don’t know, Bruce.” Steve rubs at the furrow in his brow. “I think Tony’s in trouble and I don’t know how to help him.”

“You’ll find a way, you’ve helped a lot of us, in your own way,” Bruce says and pats him before moving off to work on the diagnostics of the Engine. 

“Bruce?”

Without turning around, Bruce says, “Yes?”

“Why hadn’t I heard of him before? Why doesn’t anyone talk about him?”

Bruce turns around and grimaces. “Because everyone knows not to talk about him, Ultron keeps everyone safe, but no one is safe from him.”

The cold pit in his belly turns over and Steve feels like his throat has gone dry. He presses his lips together and nods. He leaves Bruce to his work and loses himself for a few hours in the casual routine of the ship, and rerouting their destinations. He considers whether or not they should jump to Parson’s Point to check on the children next, or if they should keep to the plan and continue going to their last checkpoints. Following their original drop offs will put them considerably behind, he won’t get Tony to his sponsor for a good number of weeks after the target date. It means they’ll take a hit on the commission and SHIELD will tax them because of it. If worse comes to worse, he’ll lessen his cut so his crew can pay off their debt. He won’t drop off Tony any sooner than he has to, considering he still needs to figure out all of this political subterfuge.

Before he leaves the boat, he peers in on Bruce again, who’s gone to his little notch in the hull to read. “I’m out of here, are you coming to the races tomorrow?”

“Probably just watch them from here. The crowds always upset me,” Bruce says and waves him off.

“Have a peaceful one, Bruce.”

“Take your own advice for once, Captain.”

Steve smiles, Bruce rarely uses his title to address him – when he does it’s to make a point. “Will do.”

He departs and closes up the ship. As he crosses the bay, he catches sight of Danvers and her crew at the same time she eyes him.

“Captain Fucking America, how are you, Rogers?” she says and offers her hand. When he takes it, she hauls him in for a hug and a slap on the back. “How’s life been treating you?”

“Can’t complain.”

She points to his ship. “Can believe that bucket is still alive and well.”

“Latest commish did some upgrades, we’ve got the latest and greatest,” Steve says and while he’s not one to boast, Carol always brings out the competitor in him.

“Oh, I heard about your commission, Stark, huh? He’s a firecracker,” Danvers says with a knowing smile. “Everyone wanted that commission. He’s paying an arm and a leg. Enough to pay off everyone’s debt on board, I heard.”

“Something like that,” Steve says but refuses to admit particulars. “You still have Darcy piloting for you?”

“Crazy, but yeah,” Danvers says. “She’s a bit to handle, but she’s not afraid, that’s why I like her.”

“They going for the recerts, tomorrow?”

“Yep, I got Darcy and Jan in it tomorrow, you?”

“Nat and Clint, plus they’ve opted to do the sniper runs as well.”

She whistles. “That’s dangerous, Rogers, out in the middle of a nebula cloud. The visibility alone will kill you. You should talk them out of it.”

Sighing, he says, “I’ve tried.”

“So, tell me, what’s up with these brothers you’re hauling around? Thor and some beautiful but insanely creepy guy, Loki, is it? Aren’t they from Asgard?”

“Don’t know what you heard Carol but-.”

She slaps him on the arm. “Don’t try and distract or dissuade me, Rogers. I saw Thor, he’s been making nice nice with my engineer.”

“Foster? He’s hanging out with Foster? What the hell do they have in common?”

Danvers only throws one of her full body laughs that always softened his view of her. “Who the hell knows, all I know is that they’ve been keeping everyone away from the Engine room for days with all that squealing going on.”

“Is he around now?” Steve peers into the hull of the Marvel – a majestic ship with its sharp lines and clean design. In comparison, the Howling Commando does look like a pile of scraps.

“Darcy?” Danvers calls.

“Oh yeah, boss?” The young woman peeks out of the ramp way; her long dark hair is loose and she has a lollipop in her mouth. “What’s up? Hey, Mister America, how you?”

He waves at her as Danvers asks, “Is Thor around or his brother?”

“Haven’t seen ‘em, I thought Selvig and Loki were hanging out at the lower levels or something?” 

“Thanks, Darce.”

“Anytime, boss. Oh and America, you can come show me your spangles anytime, too.” She pops back into the Marvel as Steve chokes a bit.

Danvers slaps him a few times on the back and says, “Have to watch out for Darcy, she’ll strip you of any dignity you have left if you’re not careful.”

He smiles and scans the docking bay. Coulson’s ship sits in the corner, and he figures his pilot May and co-pilot Ward are probably all holed up somewhere studying. That crew never has any fun. “Well, I gotta get back to it.”

“If you have time before you get out of this joint, let’s have a beer together or something.”

“Sure thing, Carol.” He half-salutes her and she races back up into her ship. 

Glancing at his chronometer, he figures he’s been out of the suite for a good part of the day. He should probably get back or not go back at all. He slips his earbud back into place and taps it. “Station communications, please.”

A few minutes later, as he walks toward the main set of lifts to the major branches of the Station, he finally gets through to Savia. 

“What may I do for you, Captain Rogers?”

“I’m just checking in, I’ve been out of the suite for the entire day and I wanted to know if Courtesan Sir Stark has communicated with you?”

“Yes, he has, Captain. He’s asked for a full course meal for you both to be delivered and that you not be disturbed for the rest of the evening.”

The fear settled in the base of his throat loosens and he inhales in deep cleansing breathes. “Thank you. Is Ms. Potts available?”

“Yes, she is, Captain. Would you like me to put you through?”

“No, no,” Steve says. “But could you ask her to meet me at her rooms. I would like to speak with her.”

“As you wish, Captain. Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you, Savia.”

“It is my pleasure to serve,” Savia says and the connection goes dead.

Through the burgeoning crowds, Steve journeys toward his suites. As the preliminary races that serve as the recertification runs and the main Pilot Runs get underway, the Chromes fills up with racers, gawkers, Elite class, and everything in between. It’s a security nightmare and he can see why Bruce avoids it like the Covenant Plague.

It takes him twice as long to get back to their dome and Ms. Potts opens her door just as he’s about to ask for admittance. “Ms. Potts.”

“Captain, Savia said you wanted to speak with me?”

“Just for a moment, if that’s okay?”

She checks her pad, and screws up her face a little. It squishes up her nose but she bobs her head and says, “I’m meeting some business associates in a short time. If it’s fast?”

“I’ll try and make it fast, ma’am.”

“Come in, then.” She escorts him back into her private dome. It isn’t as large as the one he’s sharing with Tony. The décor is similar with white furnishings and crystal glass tables and bar. It’s quite beautiful, though her view of the nebula is partially obstructed by another arm of the dome. “Now, Captain, what can I do for you?”

He rubs the back of his neck. She’s a force to be reckoned with, he knows she acts as Tony’s advocate and protector even though she’s petite and willowy. “I wanted to know if you could tell me a little about Tony’s contract, and why his license is with the Corp?”

“I don’t think that’s in my prevue to explain, perhaps you should ask Tony.”

“I would, if he wouldn’t get defensive about it, but Ms. Potts, I’m trying to help and I can’t if he doesn’t let-.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to help him, Captain. He didn’t hire you to do-.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Potts, but this isn’t about what he hired me to do, it’s about Tony and ensuring his well-being. From what I found out this sponsor of his isn’t a stand up kind of guy and the contract is pretty open ended. Looking at it from my view, I’m not happy about it, and I got no pride stopping me from doing something about it.”

She gazes at him, judging him, he surmises. Coming to some silent conclusion, she tightens her mouth into a frowns and then says, “The license is held by Stark Corp as a punishment. When Tony came back from the kidnapping incident and refused to go back to school, to be the main designer and engineer for the Corp it ended very badly for him. Stark Corp used to be the major supplier of weapons and innovation for the big-wigs, now the Main Chamber has to rely on Hammer Corp.”

“So, the Main Chamber is punishing Tony? He was the victim in all of this. But how did they do that? How did they get their hands on his Guild License?”

“People are anything but honest in this universe, Captain. He was sold out, by an old acquaintance. Jealousy of Tony’s intelligence was probably a factor, but I’m not going to get into that.” She ruffles a hand through her perfect hair. “What I will tell you is this, Tony is being punished for trying to do the right thing, for trying to stop the war machine.”

“The war machine?” Confusion batters him. As far as he knows, they aren’t at war with anyone.

“You think just because we aren’t at war, that there’s peace in Human Space? Think again, Captain. The Debtor’s moons, the Farther Worlds, even some of the Rim worlds and Slave traders, how do you think the peace is kept?”

He knows the answers to this and is embarrassed by his lack of action. 

“Strong armed and kept meek by fear. Tony stepped away from all of that, left the Stark Corp to rot on his father’s ruined reputation,” she says. “The Main Chamber decided to get back at him when he went to the Guild. Everyone has a price, someone at the Guild sold Tony out.”

He stands there, quiet and impotent. His hands in fists, he wants to knock a wall down, anything to stop the pounding, the roaring in his head. 

“But why does Ultron want Tony now?”

She startles when Steve says the name. He’s not certain if she didn’t know the name of Tony’s sponsor or if she’s just stunned that Tony confessed this information to Steve. 

“I don’t know. The Main Chamber has its own designs, Captain.” She starts to step away toward the door. Over her shoulder she says, “I expect you are the only person he trusts enough to get him out of this mess.”

“I don’t think I’ve earned it,” Steve says. “His trust- that is.”

“Haven’t you?” she says and then adds, “Now, Captain, I will be late if I don’t leave.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.”

They exit her room but before he’s able to leave, she stops him with a hand to his arm. “Tony needs you to believe in yourself, Captain. He’s counting on it.”

She disappears down the long stretch of the corridor, and all Steve can think about is that he’s supposed to be a hero, and all he feels like is a coward.


	14. Chapter 14

Steeling his nerves, Steve enters the suite of rooms he’s been sharing with Tony for the last few days. The lighting is low and emphasizes the iridescent glow of the nebula outside the long bay of windows. He imagines the glimmer of it might be similar to what Thor called the Bifrost and its rainbow of colors. He wanders into the main lounge area of the suite and finds no one, and then to the kitchenette area. Finally, he heads toward the bedroom and stops dead in his tracks when he finds Tony, sitting on the bed, partially naked but in a glorious cloak and drapery of dark red cloth with braided gold embellishments. 

“Come, dear Captain,” Tony says as he stands. The cloak falls over one shoulder, leaving his chest bare, the arc reactor gleaming in the dim light. It provides a beacon for Steve. “I wanted to make up with you.” Falling from his waist is a long length of matching fabric; it covers his groin, slung low on his hips. He looks like a god to Steve.

You, you,” Steve tries for his voice, finds it, and finally says, “You don’t have to, Tony. There’s nothing to make up for.” He’s the one that should apologize since he’s a huge disappointment for a legend, a hero of the days gone by, reduced to the captain of a cargo ship. 

“Oh, dear Captain, my Captain, I think I want there to be,” Tony says and his eyes are lidded and heavy with desire. “Tell me you’ll let me make it up to you.”

“I-I don’t know if I deserve,” Steve murmurs because Tony leans close enough that the fragrance of his cologne tickles his nostrils. “I don’t deserve you-.”

“Sure you do, Captain,” Tony says as he reaches up, touching his lips with a soft brush against Steve’s mouth. “Let me take care of you, Captain, let me show you how to relax, how to take your ease.”

For one frightening moment, it crosses Steve’s mind that Tony might be bribing him, using his body to lure him into his personal cause, a way out of despair and the indentured life Tony lives. It paralyzes him, the idea that Tony might do something so insane, so painful, that he might sell himself to save himself – that he would think the way to do it would be to seduce Steve.

“You don’t have to do this, Tony, you don’t need to do this,” Steve says and his words are whispered and pained.

Searching his eyes, Tony says with hot breath against Steve’s face. “I don’t have to do it, I understand that, Captain. But this is something I want to do.”

“You don’t have to, I’ll do anything to help you, Tony,” Steve says and holds Tony’s hands to his chest. “Anything.”

“I only need you to do one thing, Captain.”

“What’s that?” And he knows in his heart he will sacrifice himself to save Tony from the horrifying fate that lies ahead of him. 

“Take your ease,” Tony whispers and kisses Steve with light pecks along his jaw, his ear, to his neck and collar bone. 

“No, Tony,” Steve says and stops him. “Tell me, how to help you. I can do anything you want. I can take you away on the Commando so you don’t have to do this duty of yours.”

Tony smirks a bit, and there’s a hint of something mercurial and Machiavellian in his eyes. “Captain, you get me wrong. I want to do my duty. I need to do my duty.”

“We can fix whatever it is, Tony. I’ll help you save whomever-.”

Tony hangs onto Steve, his arms hooked over his neck. “You don’t need to fix anything, Steve. Come, let me show you how to relax.” He kisses tenderly and lovingly along the ridge of Steve’s throat. “Let me do this, and we can talk about your need to be my hero later.”

“Tony,” Steve says but his defenses are fragmenting as Tony pushes against Steve’s inner thigh, his erection hard and persistent against Steve.

“Come to bed, darling, come to bed,” Tony says and draws him toward the large bed. “We can talk later while we eat. Right now, I want to show you something.”

When Steve doesn’t answer, Tony takes matters into his own hands. He pummels Steve’s mouth with a rousing, consuming kiss. It robs the air from Steve’s lungs so completely that he thinks he might be rocking on his feet, tilting, and falling. In fact, he is collapsing on to the bed as Tony crawls over him. 

“Stay right where you are, heart of my heart,” Tony says and slides off the bed. As Steve scrambles to sit up against the mountain of pillows on the bed, Tony unclasps the cloak and it puddles to the floor around his feet. Joining it, the floor length loincloth falls away to reveal Tony’s bound erection.

Steve can only open his mouth and gape. He tries to express his confusion along with his hunger at what he sees but no words formulate in his head. Gold bands truss up Tony’s erection, they shimmer and glint in the light.

Finally he finds his voice to say, “What, what is that Tony?”

“Oh,” Tony smiles and his grin is devious and delighted. 

Steve feels like he’s invited the devil into his soul with wide open arms. He feels no regrets, only anticipation and urgency. 

“This, my dear Captain, is my own design, my own invention. Sometimes I get bored and my brain needs a reprieve. I invent. Do you like?”

Tony strides up to the side of the bed, and Steve joins him. The sway of his bound erection in the golden bands is heavy and thick. Steve goes to his knees, staring at the bindings, and glimpses what he can only describe as a liquid gold pulse. “What is this?”

“You lie back down, and I’ll show you,” Tony says as he nudges Steve’s face with his hardened dick. “Undress and lie down, Captain.”

Steve climbs back onto his feet. There are so many other important issues at hand. He should deny Tony, he should deny himself these pleasures, but he falters and follows Tony’s orders. When he discards his clothes, Tony runs his hands over Steve’s chest, loitering at his nipples, playing lightly now at the ridge of his abdominal muscles to the small of his waist. He hisses in response as knows he’s lost all argument. 

Tony eases him backward onto the bed, then directs him to the center. “I’m going to prepare you now, Captain, would you like that? Would you like me to?” His words are murmured and low, rough and rasping. Within their secret conclave of the canopied bed, Tony caresses and strokes Steve with his hands, with his kisses, with his tongue. If Steve attempts to intercede, to interrupt, Tony only taps him or pushes him back to the cushions.

“This is me taking care of you, dear heart,” Tony says and continues teasing Steve’s nipple with his licking, stroking his fingers along the length of his erection, playing at the head with the dribble of pre-come. 

“Tony,” Steve says and draws him up to a kiss. He tastes the breath of Tony, somehow pretends that with this shared air he might be able to find a connection, a way to link to Tony, so that he will never let him go, never see him leave. 

Parting, Tony tips his forehead against Steve’s and closes his eyes. “Let me show you.”

“Show me.”

“Let me show you what it means, what it all means, my Captain.” He brings his hand down to Steve, groin, slowly circling around his ass. “I’m going to take it easy on you, I’m going to prepare you so you know how much it means.” 

He takes it easy, he takes it slow. He uses one of his special discs to coat his fingers and then moves to prepare Steve. It agonizes, and paralyzes, and brings him to the brink and pulls him back again. He moans and writhes as Tony readies him and then, with a tender kiss to his forehead, Tony positions himself and enters. The first touch, the first invasion startles and stretches. It pricks senses, and burns with a heat that seems internal and complete all at once. 

“A little more, darling, a little more,” Tony says and thrusts forward and it hits deeply and profoundly. He’s experienced it before, but not like this, not so overwhelmingly and continuously. He doesn’t understand what he feels, like liquid heat, warm and soothing, yet enticing all at once. 

He gasps and curls his fists into the sheets. “Tony, Tony, what, what is that.” His breathing turns into panicked rasps.

Tony pets his chest and hovers over him. “Calm there, Captain, calm. The gold bands are nanites. It’s my little invention, the nanite package stimulates your prostate and keeps you lubed up. There you go, relax into it. Just drift on it, there you go.”

And he drifts, floats on wave upon wave – he cannot label it, he cannot define it but he follows it, the desire and the flowing of his blood comes over him. Tony rocks against him, into him, and he mimics the rhythm. It compels him, the need, the yearning, the want to be part of Tony, always. He hungers for more, and follows Tony’s lead. It compels and seduces; every push and thrust increases the feel of pleasure laced with just enough risk to hurt. He groans and throws back his head trying to stabilize his own reaction.

He clasps onto Tony’s arms, holding him. He wraps his legs around Tony encompassing him, and gives himself over, surrendering to the sensations coiling and tightening. He falls with sharp spikes of need shooting through him from deep within his groin. He cries out and he feels the blossom of hot semen spill over his abdomen. It snaps within him and he calls out to Tony. 

With a quick burst, Tony fills him and he’s clenching down coming with him as Tony strokes his erection, pumping him. Tony stays perched over him, each of them caught in the moment, the air thin in the room, their breathing paused as their bodies catch up with their need. He huffs and Tony laughs as he drops onto Steve. 

“That’s, that’s terrific,” Steve says and grins as Tony burrows into his neck, kissing him. 

“Glad you liked it,” Tony says. “Just a little something.” He shifts and withdraws. Steve only feels a slight discomfort and Tony reaches over to the night table. He pulls out a small disc. “Here you go.” 

He rolls Steve over and presses it to the base of Steve’s spine. “Wow, what is that?”

Tony sits back and disengages the binding over his spent penis. “That just blocks the nerve so that you don’t feel the lingering burn. There’s shouldn’t be much because of the lubrication from the cock-binding should do most of the job to take that away.”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head. “I cannot believe you invent sex toys, too.”

Tony lifts a shoulder. “Why not, I like sex, don’t you?” Tony lies down next to him with his arm folded under his head.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” He frowns as he thinks about Bucky and his constant poking fun of Steve’s lack of romance in his life. “Although I probably don’t get enough of it.”

“Well, we’ll remedy that over the next few weeks,” Tony says and there’s the unspoken finality about it.

Steve turns and starts to speak, but Tony puts his finger on Steve’s lips. “Shush, first let’s eat, then sleep, and then we can give each other mutual blow jobs before the race. There’s nothing like a race when you’re satiated already.”

“Tony,” Steve says and his words are kind and loving, and he wants to profess his feelings for Tony, but he doesn’t. Since the first night when Tony thought Steve was sleeping, Tony hadn’t approached anything close to confessing his love for Steve. He doesn’t want to force Tony, he only wants to save him from himself – he keeps reminding himself of this. He has to remember the endgame.

It surprises him now that he does have an endgame – it’s saving Tony, regardless of what it means to his welfare. He has to figure out all the players and who else might be in danger as well. He needs to get his crew safely away so that they are not collateral damage. But he’ll find out how, a plan and a strategy is all he needs.

“You’re thinking too loudly again, and I just propositioned you with a blow job and you’re thinking,” Tony says. “Come on, big boy, time for dinner.”

Dinner, then rest, and a haze of emotion follow. In the late morning hours of the next day, he reclines loose and relaxed in the embrace of Tony as they lie on the plush cushions. The canopy draperies are closed and he's notched under Tony's arm. He realizes Tony's right, satiated and nearly swimming on the edge of consciousness - their morning activities have done wonders for his disposition.

Tony strokes his hair as he cards fingers through its strands. They will need to get ready for the races soon, but now Steve luxuriates within their cocoon. It is quiet and isolated, but not lonely or forlorn. Tony speaks in low tones, talking and explaining his thoughts about the Human Space. In some ways he's teaching Steve, explaining the intrigue, the way that things go together in the political spheres Steve has not experienced.

Above them in an array of light and stars, JARVIS projects the whole of the Human Sphere, utilizing two other pads as well to force the three dimensional aspect of it. It isn't perfect according to Tony, but it will be sufficient. As he works his hand through Steve's hair he stretches the other over his personal JARVIS pad and moves the stars about at dizzying speeds.

"It wasn't always this way, you know." He moves the projection inward and expands it to the area known as the Inner Belts. "After you went down, and the war against Hydra was won because of you, things were good. That's what they say anyway. Things were good."

"The Main Chamber thinks things are good now," Steve says, cuddled against Tony, he thinks he could slumber and forget the worries that concerned him, but he can't and he knows it.

"Propaganda isn't a good thing, Captain, not when everyone knows it's a piss poor excuse for what we're all seeing in reality," Tony says. He points at the star systems of the Inner Belts. The stars rotate and the project zooms inward. "Things were good, but not perfect. And no one really put a stop to the Corps taking over. The governments fell away and the Corps became everything."

"Everything I fought against," Steve says.

"True, but also more than that," Tony says. "No one doubts that a strong centralized government is needed to not only keep the peace but to also maintain the structure of our techno-economy. Having such an economy reliant on technology makes a Main Chamber almost a given and the power of Corps within the government structure a mainstay."

"You sound like a cross between an economist and a politician."

"I'm a futurist, and what I see of our future is pretty bleak," Tony says. "Most people don't worry about it, most in the Inner and Outer Belts try to ignore what's going on in the Rims, the Farther Worlds, and especially with the Ringers and slavers. No one wants to deal with any of that," Tony says. "When Ten Rings took me that was a play for the Ringers to break through the Inner Belts and get to the Main Chamber. Like I said, they were trying to upset the status quo."

"Which isn't all that great," Steve remarks and adds, "Doesn't forgive what they did to you." He places his hand like a shelter over Tony's arc reactor.

"No, it doesn't. They weren't doing it for any humanitarian cause, Captain, they were trying to get power. There aren't a lot of people with any means that want to stop what's going on. The Main Chamber could really care less. You think anyone in the Chamber, hooked up to their vids and virtuals, care about the average Joe out in the Rims? Do you think they will do anything to stop the slave trade - which isn't even legal? Take a look at the Constitution, it's in the basic tenets of the document that people cannot own other people or any sentient being. I don't even really own JARVIS."

"That is correct, Captain Rogers. Sir, has assured me that if I chose to I could leave him anytime, and I could through the Nets and Grids."

"But you don't," Steve says.

"No, I do not."

"So." Steve peers up at Tony and asks, "Why are you showing me this?"

Tony shrugs and pulls out the stars to the planets where the Main Chamber lies. "Maybe to assure you that your sacrifice wasn't in vain."

"I never said I thought it was," Steve says, though now that he thinks about it he might feel it in the pit of his stomach on the bad days. "Okay, maybe sometimes, when I see the kids starving in the Rims, or I look at my crew and know I'm standing between them and the Debtor's moons. Or when I think about my Ma and when she died of the Covenant Plague, and I was so sure in a hundred years or so no one else would die of it-."

"But people still do, the poor still do anyway," Tony finishes for him. "Maybe part of why I wanted to show you this was that, as a futurist, I see not only the technological advances but also human advances. We have a tendency to be a selfish species, but that all relates to ensuring our own genetic line. But there are people who care, Pepper cares."

"I know that Tony, I just don't get why you're showing me this, what does it have to do with the technical advances you were telling me about - the arc reactor, JARVIS. Everything."

"I want to assure you that I'm not a nut case?" Tony says, and laughs but it sounds hollow in his chest. "It's just that you don't see my position as a Guild member as anything but its surface."

"That's not exactly true."

"You don't see me as someone willing to lie down on the wire, you see me as someone who'd cut the wire," Tony says and stops Steve before he can protest. "Part of my job as a Guild member is to make my sponsor feel at ease, relaxed, happy. In order to do that, I have to know my sponsor inside and out. I take it very seriously."

Steve doesn't reply because he understands he's been privy to Tony's talents in the last few days.

"If I can be a Courtesan to the Main Chamber, if I can serve Ultron and take a little bit of the misery that originates from that fucking place away, I'll do it."

"You'd sacrifice yourself? Because of what Ten Rings did? Because the Main Chamber hates that you won't build weapons for them and keep the status quo for them."

"Yes, you have to understand, Steve, this isn't just about getting Ultron off, this is about what happens to the whole picture. The Ten Rings wanted to upset the balance for selfish reasons, they wanted the power. But what if, what if I went into Ultron's chamber and I could get him to relax, I could get the Main Chamber out from under his thumb, maybe one or two of those idiots might see what's become of the Human Space. How the Corp are ruled and how the people are suffering. Sometimes you have to play the game from the inside. Maybe I could make a difference."

"With your sacrifice? That's crazy," Steve says and he sits up, pounds on the bed. "You really think giving your mind and body over to a manic for five years-."

"Actually if you do the math it's one year plus the five year option so that ends up being six-."

"God damn it, Tony.” Steve swings off the bed, walking through the projected stars. He pushes back the curtains and ties on his robe. "What the hell is wrong with you? You'll only be a toy to him. You're not a hero and you should stop pretending to be one."

"And you are? Everything special about you came out of a bottle," Tony says.

Steve staggers as if he's taken a blow to the chest. He strikes back, hard and furious. "You want to go a few rounds?" He knows how ridiculous he sounds, like a braggart and a bully and he hates himself a little more. He was once a war hero, and when he looks at himself through Tony's eyes he can only see disappointment and despair.

Tony laughs with his head thrown back. "You are a piece of work, you know that, Captain? My father went on and on about you and your nobility, your need to do what's right. Do you think for a minute that carting crap around the Human Space, for the very Corps you despise, is any better at all then being a Courtesan and seeking out the highest and most powerful in the Main Chamber. Do you?"

Steve deflates and covers his eyes with his hand. The truth does not set you free, it stabs like an arrow through the heart and the brain; it destroys more soundly than a blast from a bomb. Tony's right and Steve isn't a hero at all, he's a relic from the past. An arm wraps around him and pulls him with stubborn devotion into an embrace.

"Are we finished destroying one another, now?"

Steve looks at Tony, and he feels ruined and savaged, like Tony stripped him bare on purpose, and he recognizes the glint in Tony's eyes as just that. "Why?"

"Because I need you to do something you don't want to do, Captain."

"What's that?"

"I need you to keep your word," Tony says and holds Steve's hands in a loose clasp. "I need you to do your duty and know it is the right thing to do, it is what Captain America would do."

"No, no it is not, Tony." He searches Tony’s expression and all he finds is a strange quiet determination, a resolution to do this thing. He’s lost in that truth. “Why, why would you do this thing?”

“Because, my dear Captain,” Tony says and raises Steve’s left hand to this lips. He kisses the knuckles. “It is the right thing to do.”

“No, not this.”

“Believe me when I say it is. I can handle myself. I may balk at it, and snarl and curse Stane, because that man is a bastard and deserves the crows to eat his liver while he’s still alive, but I know what I need to do. This is what I need to do.”

“You talk like it’s some sacred duty,” Steve says and shakes his head, disbelieving. “None of it makes any sense, Tony.”

“It does, it will, you just need to believe that I know what I am doing,” Tony says. “I am a Courtesan of the Guild and I was trained to do this.”

“To what? Seduce Ultron so that he falls under your spell, so that you can change the status quo from the inside?” Steve wants nothing more than to throttle Tony, hard and unrelenting, until the man comprehends how insane his plan really is. He latches onto something that JARVIS told him. “You’ll have none of your tricks, your gizmos. You won’t even have JARVIS.”

“That’s true, I won’t,” Tony replies, and it doesn’t even seem to upset him. 

“Nothing. Tony, nothing, but you. Some clothes, what? Nothing, you’ll have nothing, Tony.”

Tony leans forward, and smirks in a knowing but fond way. “You worry too much, dear Captain, I’ll have everything I need.”

“Everything?” His stomach twists and curdles at the thought of Tony using his body to persuade Ultron, to sway the Main Chamber to do his bidding. “No.”

“Yes, Captain, my Captain, I will have everything I need.” Tony quirks an eyebrow and kisses Steve, then whispers in his ear. “I’ll have my suits.”

Appalled, Steve parts from Tony. “Suits? Damn it, Tony, suits? You expect to change the damned world over suits?”

Tony laughs, genuine and bright. He cocks his head. “These are pretty special suits.”

Steve throws up his hands and sighs. “I should just let you get abused by Ultron. You’re on a damned suicide mission anyway. Why should I care?”

Tony softens then and approaches Steve. “Listen to me, Captain, I am telling you the truth. I don’t want to get sucked into this contract. I don’t want that freak Ultron to touch me. But I will do this, and you will deliver me to him.”

“At least, tell me why,” Steve says and he knows how desperate he sounds and how hopeless he feels. “Why?”

“Some things in life are necessary, duty calls. This is my duty.”

“For a contract that you were bullied into?” Steve hates bullies.

“Do this and you’ll understand.”

“I’ll lose you,” Steve says. He shakes his head in helpless denial.

“That’s a risk we both have to take,” Tony says. “Now, trust me when I say to you, I picked you because you are a hero, because of my father’s faith in you. He taught me a lot, even in his drug addicted addled mind. He taught me to trust you.”

“I think you’ve placed your trust in the wrong man.”

“I know I haven’t.” Tony pads across the room, picks at the breakfast laid out on the table. “If you don’t trust me, if you can’t believe my words on this, then I’ll ask you for one favor.”

“What?”

“Contact Colonel James Rhodes of the First Inner Patrol, he’ll tell you what you need to know,” Tony says. “I’m getting ready for the race, how about you?”

“Rhodes?” Steve follows Tony into the bathroom. Tony fiddles with his toiletries, placing his small bag to the side of the shower. He starts the water and steps into the large stall. 

“Yes, Rhodes is an old friend, he’ll give you the lowdown, now get out of that robe, and hop in. I want to feel you up and make sure you’re walking with a hitch in your step when Bucky sees you next.”

“I don’t think any of this is funny,” Steve says and cannot believe Tony’s levity.

“Neither do I, my dear Captain,” Tony says as he steps into the hot stream of water. “Now, come, darling.”

Steve loosens his robe and drops it to enter the shower with Tony. It is a large marble enclosure with multiple heads spouting water from different angles. It is actually difficult to stand anywhere in the shower without water cascading down his body. 

“Listen to me,” Tony says and kisses Steve along his throat to his chest. “I know what I’m doing.”

“And I don’t like it,” Steve replies.

“You don’t have to like it, you just have to swear on your honor that you’ll do this for me,” Tony rakes a hand down the muscles of Steve’s abdomen. 

“I’ll swear to protect you, but I cannot swear to do this for you,” Steve says and the disappointment is clear on his face. 

He hides it quickly and turns to his current occupation. “First, let me show you how I feel, Captain.” He drops his hand and caresses it over Steve’s cock, bringing it from flaccid to half mast with a few abled strokes. “Come on, Captain, let me in.”

“I’d let you in any day, Tony, any day.” He shivers as Tony turns him. Tony leans out of the shower and retrieves one of his little ringed discs for his erection and his fingers. He slips it on. Without words, Tony bends Steve over to lean against the small tiled bench in the shower. As he prepares, Tony caresses his flank, wanders his hands along his back. It reminds Steve of the blind, as if he uses his fingertips to memorize the touch of Steve. Steve braces against the tiles as Tony slips into him, grunting when the soft stroke turns more frenetic, switches to pounding into him. He throbs a beat, it burns because of the water washing away some of the lubrication as they thrust against one another. He arches into each jerk of Tony’s hips while Tony presses hard fingers into bones of his hips, and then curves his one hand around to encircle Steve.

Steve lets out a hiss and fists the wall as Tony pumps him in rhythm to his motions. He’s not on fire, he’s not in need of coming or finding his climax. What he does need is Tony to understand, what he does want is Tony to connect with him and discover that it isn’t about just the physical, it’s more than that. He wants Tony to crave not only this act, but to wish for so much more from Steve. So he offers himself, offers more than just the method to ease the ache, he offers what he can. He curls one hand around Tony’s still driving hard on his erection. He strokes with him, crying out, begging Tony.

Tony complies and it breaks over him like a crash suffered. It devastates his senses, wrecks his walls, crumbles the last of any defenses he had. He sobs out his relief as Tony warms him and fills him as well. Wobbly legged, he teeters until Tony grasps him about the waist and holds him up to his own chest. He can feel the arc reactor pressed against his back as Tony slips out of him.

“Calm down, Captain. Shush,” Tony says as he pets him.

Steve lays his head back on Tony, knowing it is awkward to have his weight burden Tony. “Stop calling me that.”

“What?”

“Captain, it’s Steve, not Captain.”

Tony kisses his earlobe and then says, “Let’s clean up, big boy, we have races to go watch.”

Turning, Steve indulges in the wash of the water and the heat of a kiss. He lingers and hunts for the perfect connection to Tony. If he can establish it, he thinks he might be able to communicate with Tony just how much he cares, just how much he loves him, and cannot lose him. He wonders at his own free of confession to Tony.

Tony breaks away first, and says, “No, no, we have to get cleaned up. The races, darling, the races.”

Steve wakes up a little more from the aftermath and nods. They take turns washing one another and it ends up as a bizarre competition with Tony winning because he has a very talented tongue. Finally bathed, Steve climbs out of the shower with Tony trailing behind him. He hands Tony a towel and fetches one for himself. He sets about getting shaved and dressed as Tony disappears into the walk in closets to don his Courtesan formal wear. Steve peeks out at him and frowns. 

“Suits, a bunch of suits. Sure he has all those cases and crap, but suits? Why the hell would he think a bunch of suits will save him from a lunatic,” Steve mutters. “Is Ultron some weird ass fashion aficionado?” 

“What’s that?” Tony says as he brings his razor in and cleans up his beard. 

“Nothing, just getting ready.”

“Talking to yourself is a sign of senility.” 

“Well, I am way over a hundred, you know,” Steve says and walks into the bedroom. He dresses in his formal vintage uniform. He works the tie and straightens the pins and medals. Tony disappears into his closet again as Steve leaves to go to the kitchen. He dumps some of the dirty glasses and plates into the sink when the door buzzes.

“Probably Pepper, she’s coming to the races, too,” Tony calls.

“Okay.” Steve goes to the door and presses it open. Ms. Potts wears a smart white suit with a glittering blouse. Her hair is pulled back in a high bun with tendrils of long curls hanging from it. “Wow.”

“Wow to you as well, Captain Rogers,” Ms. Potts says and invites herself in when Steve’s stunned reaction freezes him.

“Sorry, come in, oh you are in,” Steve says; he fumbles around and then presses the switch to close the door again. 

She smiles at him with a positive glow and says, “Are you excited about the race today, Captain?”

“Race, yes, I have to check in with my crew.”

“I saw Natasha this morning. She’s very determined. I think Clint is a little frightened of her.”

“Everyone is frightened of Nat,” Steve says and points to the bar. “Can I make you a drink?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Just excited about the races. Where’s Tony?”

“Getting ready.” He gestures to the bedroom and then says, “May I ask you something Ms. Potts?”

“Surely,” she says.

“Do you know why Tony thinks he can take on Ultron? Why he thinks if he’s Ultron’s Courtesan things will change for the better?”

She narrows her eyes at him, studying him before she answers. “I’ve known Tony a long time. When he sets out to do something, I’ve learned to believe him whether or not it seems logical.”

“But he’s-.” Steve falters because even as he tries to say that Tony thinks _a lot of suits_ is an important strategy he realizes Tony must have been joking. He rubs at his temple and shakes his head. “I just need to know he’ll be safe.”

“I can’t promise you anything, if you’re looking at me for that confirmation. I can say he picked you and the crew of the Howling Commando because he believes in you. You should do him the return favor and believe in him.”

“He’s a Courtesan, not a rebel. Do you think he’ll change things?”

“Honestly?” Pepper says and waits until he indicates yes. “I don’t know. For a while, after he had the arc reactor in his chest, he was dying because of the element that charges it or whatever it does. He didn’t tell me then, just made me an omelet.”

Steve screws up his face at that one.

“Yeah, tell me about it. But that’s Tony. He ended up saving himself then, and now, now he has a plan. You cannot predict what he’s going to do. You have to trust him, believe in him.”

“And you, Ms. Potts, are you in this because he’s going to change the future?”

“I’m in this because I believe in him, he’s more than just a friend. He’s all I have. He’s my family.” 

“So, you set out to help him go to a lunatic-.”

She places a gentle hand on his forearm. “Captain Rogers, know this: I do not do things lightly. Tony agreed to this contract under duress, but –as is the case with everything Tony does – he found a way to make it work for him. If he thinks he can use his influence on the Main Chamber and on Ultron, then I have to believe him. Believe him, he believes in you.”

Steve looks down at her hand on his arm and then back up to her eyes. “I think I’m quite a disappointment to him, ma’am.”

Her eyes are kind and soft and he wonders how it fits together with her strong exterior. “Don’t be silly, Captain Rogers, Tony knew what he was doing when he decided on the Howling Commando and her Captain to escort him to his final destination.”

“Maybe, I don’t-.”

“No, no, no,” Tony says as he walks into the main room of the suite. He wears a new Sherwani, this one is maroon with golden embroidery and piping along the seams and the cuffs. His hands are laced with jeweled chains from one finger to the next. He looks stunning and Steve licks his lips to try and wet his dried mouth.

“What’s that, Tony?”

“Stop hogging my Captain, Pepper, get your own,” Tony says and they share a quick but friendly kiss. “Are we ready for the race?”

Steve glances about the room and nods. “I think we are. I need to check in with the crew and then we can find our seats.”

“We have a whole viewing dome to ourselves, sweetheart,” Tony says. “I booked it with Savia.”

“Oh, I didn’t – isn’t that expensive?”

“Welcome to the wonders of the Elite class,” Tony says and leads them to the alcove near the door. 

“You don’t have those repulsor things on your hands do you?” Steve asks.

Tony rolls his eyes. “No, but I do have my earbud and my pad so I can talk to JARVIS. What would I ever do without him?”

Steve is about to point out that that is exactly what Tony signed up for with the infamous Ultron, but closes his mouth when Tony winks at him. The entire plot, the whole play of what and why Tony is doing whatever he has planned feels like a knot of wires. He knows Tony’s brilliant, every fact about him published on the Rag-nets and the Grids, plus what he’s experienced, proves the point. Yet, whatever Tony’s planned continues to mystify Steve. 

There’s one thing Steve vows, and that is Tony wants him to do his duty. He’ll do just that – he’ll do his duty as Captain America and ensure the safety of his charge. Regardless of what it means. He doesn’t care if he ends up on a Debtor’s Moon or worse. If he’s a living legend, it’s time for him to live up to the legend.


	15. Chapter 15

Stepping out into the swarming crowds of the Chromes it becomes apparent that an energy like an electrical current sizzles through the crowd. The normal Pilot Races are always fun, but the recerts - especially the prelims - verge on frenetic with little rules and high stakes. Failure to complete a recert leads to loss of pilot license and probable suspension from the Pilot Guild.

Natasha shouldn't have an issue with it, she's one of the best there is and Steve’s still lucky to have her with the Commando. As Steve and Tony along with Pepper walk through the branches of the Station, it is clear that many people know who Tony is. Eyes turn, words are whispered, and the Rag-nets buzz in the background. He even catches a few Grid camera turned their way as they climb through the access points of the Chromes.

Steve tries to ignore it, because it makes him uncomfortable. He still recalls the many Grids and Vids that followed him back in the day. It was before the Rag-nets had a good hold on the human populace. It had been a now archaic version of the nets back then, called the Fodder-feed. He hated it, but knew he had to tolerate it because people were hungry for news from the front, and the first major space war had all eyes turned to it. He became a focal point, a rallying point of the war.

As he scans the faces, the bleak and the obscene, the gluttonous and the starved, he wonders what all his sacrifice was for, and then it occurs to him that Tony plans on doing the same thing. It jabs at his heart when he looks at Tony, clasping onto his arm with a casual grace. With his sacrifice to Ultron, Tony hopes to change the human worlds, but what is the point of it. The pain, the imbalance of power and privilege continue to exist. How can one man make a difference?

His mind harkens back to Erskine and his words the night before Project Rebirth as they sat and he spoke to Steve in low tones, explaining the horrors of Schmidt and the possibilities of the serum. He'd told Steve that no one else would ever control the serum, he'd kept its secrets safe. He'd also told Steve that he had to stay a good man, not a perfect soldier, but a good man. He turns away, thinking of the lost serum, with his lost world, and swallows down hard. He's about to lose the world now. It strikes him then like a slap to the face, that Tony means the world to him.

Straightening his shoulders, he ushers Tony and Pepper into a lift and it moves toward the main level of the docking bay. He studies their faces as they chatter about the race. From what he understands, Tony has participated in the Pilot Races before, and he loves to watch but yearns to race again. Steve smiles and it blossoms a fondness in his chest that hurts as if he's skirting an asthma attack.

"Off to wish the crew luck, then, Captain?" Tony says and he's snapped out of his reverie.

"I wanted to check in on them, yes," Steve replies and tugs on his jacket. Tony slaps him out of the way.

"Just leave it, you look great, doesn't he look fabulous?" Tony turns to Pepper.

"You look good, Captain."

"Um, thank you, Tony don't-."

Tony bounces up on his tiptoes, kisses Steve's nose just before the elevator opens and then are inundated with another group. Groaning, Tony rolls his eyes and points to one of the newest occupants of the car. Steve doesn't recognize him, but when they finally exit the lift Tony starts to curse.

"Why? What is it?"

Tony gestures at the receding crowd. "Damn Vanko, that's who. Hammer must have a cargo ship docked here and Vanko's here for the recerts."

"Tony, now, don't," Pepper warns.

"What?"

"Vanko is a bastard, if he's in the recert races today, it'll be nothing but trouble," Tony says as they crossed the docking bay to where the racers are moored.

"Natasha can handle herself, and Clint's an excellent spotter, he can see things way ahead of the pack," Steve says and leads them to the assigned pit for his crew. They have a sleek purple racer and Clint pops out of the cockpit just as they walk up to the ship.

"Hey, we're just doing the final checks right now, didn't know if you'd make it to see us off," Clint snickers a bit as Tony raises an eyebrow.

"Hold your tongue," Steve replies.

"I'm sure you haven't, why should I?" Clint slaps him on the back and adds, "I'm going over to Coulson's crew, gonna wish 'em luck beforehand."

As Clint departs, Steve calls out, "Don't defect, you're all mine-."

"I thought I was all yours?" Tony interjects but Steve huffs.

"Hawkeye has a soft spot for Coulson, I don't know why. But I think they might be a thing."

"Might." It is Natasha's turn to roll her eyes. "Seriously, Captain, you are always so out of date when it comes to these things. It's a wonder how you operate."

"It's a wonder how I operate with him and Bucky around," Steve says.

"Hey now, don't go taking my name in vain, here," Bucky says and he climbs out of the sniper pod. It sits on top of the racer like a small bubble. He jumps down and admires the ship. "It is a fine thing, isn't it?"

"The racers are all the same," Tony says and shifts his gaze over to the black one two pits over. "That's Vanko's, he always gets the black one, the creep. He gets it because it is more difficult to see in the runs."

"In a nebula cloud, good luck with that strategy." Natasha says. "But Danvers’ crew has the pretty yellow one."

Pepper swings around and actually whistles. "That is smart."

"Sure is, they got Jan navigating," Natasha says.

"Jan 'the Wasp'?" Tony asks.

"Yes, and she's a force to be reckoned with," Natasha says as she studies her competitor. "She can guide that ship through spaces like she's a hornet. I swear that woman is half wasp."

"With Darcy at the helm, they'll have quite a run," Steve remarks. He recalls his other pressing concern. "Have you seen Thor or Loki?"

"Thor's over with Jane, and Loki, nope. He's been hanging with Selvig for the entire time. It's kind of creepy," Natasha says.

A siren rings out marking the time. Pepper looks down at her pad and says, "Time to get to the viewing domes."

"I should really find Thor," Steve says.

"We can swing by the Marvel as we leave, but we really should get to the domes," Pepper directs and starts off. Steve lingers with Tony by his side.

"Good luck, Natasha," Steve says.

Clint is running back just as they leave and offers him a sloppy salute. He salutes back and wishes him luck as well. When the get to the Marvel, Danvers is locking up with Jane in tow. Thor is trailing behind her.

"Captain Rogers, I must give you many thanks for bringing us to this wonderful Chrome Domes Station. It has introduced me to the lovely, Jane Foster."

"Tones, I didn't know you were here," Jane says and leans into hug Tony.

They share a brief embrace and when there's a questioning eye, Tony says, "Jane and I went to university together. Surprised to see you out here, hanging out by a cargo hauler."

She shrugs. "Some of us went to school on our wits but that doesn't pay the bills."

"Sorry to hear that, Jane, I didn't know," Tony says and he looks genuinely pained to know she's walking around with a debt to pay off just because she wanted to go to university. It's like that nowadays, not even a decent paying job in the Outer Belts will offer enough for parents to pay their child's way through a good school. Many students end up with a load of debt and a payment to be made through service to the Inner Belts. The whole of the human race has disintegrated and broken over money. He hates it.

"I heard your brother is hanging out with Jane's friend?"

"Oh yes, Loki and Erik have made fast friends," Thor says, confirming Steve's question. "Do not concern yourself, they only discuss Loki's magic and how it is explained by your science. I feel it has been beneficial to both of them."

"Well, at least it's kept them out of our hair," Jane says with a wink and Thor actually blushes which Steve didn't think possible.

A second siren tells them that the racers need to get into their ships.

"Now, we have to get moving," Pepper says. "We need to get to the domes."

"Shall we?" Danvers points the way. "My crew’s already situated, yours?"

As they travel inwards toward the main elevator banks, Steve nods. "Yes, they're ready."

"Still bent to do the sniper part of the race."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"So's Coulson's crew. I think they got Skye in the pod."

Steve hisses out his disapproval and Tony shakes his head. “What?"

Tony smiles. "I didn't think you were so risk adverse, Captain."

"I'm not, I just don't like to see so many young people risking their lives for a race."

"You sounds like a grandpa."

"I could be your great grandfather," Steve says.

"Oh good lord, no," Tony chuckles. "That would truly be risqué. But really you were what twenty three when you underwent Project Rebirth and you're judging them now?"

Steve sighs, talking with Tony can be exasperating. "I'm not judging anyone. Just get in the lift and tell it where we are going."

Pepper intercedes with an amused smile. "I'll do that Captain."

By the time they are escorted to their private viewing dome, Thor has begged off to go and sit with Jane and Danvers’ crew. Steve feels a little betrayed but not overly. It will mean he'll be able to have more time with Tony. Pepper will be there, but not obtrusive like he knows Danvers would be plying him for information and incessantly teasing about Tony. When they leave Danvers and her crew at the common viewing dome, Pepper lingers with her and Tony tells her to stay.

As they move through the throngs, Steve peers over his shoulder and sees Danvers lightly touch Pepper's shoulder. "Whoa, what?"

Tony tugs at him. "Leave it be, dear one, everyone has their weaknesses."

Steve can't help but smile and Tony grins back at him. As they approach the more private viewing domes, Savia appears out of nowhere to guide them to their exclusive dome. "This way gentlemen. I hope you are experiencing a pleasurable stay with us, Courtesan Sir Stark."

Tony nods to Steve and Steve conveys his appreciation. "We've both enjoyed it very much, and will be sad to leave in just a few days."

 

"Yes, the recerts will be finished by then," Savia says and with a graceful wave of her hand gestures to a set of three stairs up to a small but spacious viewing dome. Steve steps aside so that Tony can enter first. He waits for Savia to pass through the door before he joins them.

He gapes at the view, at the beauty as well as the extravagance of the viewing dome. He's always viewed from the lower levels, not even the higher one that Danvers booked. He's been jostled in a crowd of people and depended on his height to see anything. This dome is quite different.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Tony says and waves off Savia. She bows slightly, leaves the room, and closes the door.

Steve turns on his heel, there's a bar to the side of the door with drinks of all kinds and other refreshments including seafood, sweets, breads, steaming vegetables, and more of the ice cream in an enclosed refrigerated unit. The rest of the room is pure dome and monitors to view every aspect of the race. The seats are embedded in the floor with cushions and blankets laid about.

"Come Captain, let's get some food and then we can settle in. We won't have much time before the race actually starts."

"Why does that terrify me?" Steve says and allows himself to be shuffled to the bar and a plate be stuffed into his hands.

"Because you know I want to ravage you, and test out that super soldier serum during the race," Tony says and plucks different foods onto Steve's plate. He pours them drinks and they clamber down into the lounges built right into the floor.

As Steve lies back the floor conforms to his body and he yelps in surprise.

“Nice, right?" Tony says. "You just have to move a bit and it will move with you. So you can always see everything, or move whatever way you want. Some sponsors have them. Very nice for a long session."

"How many sponsors have you had?" The question is out of his mouth before he can stop it, and he's all the more embarrassed as Tony's eyebrows pop up and he bubbles with laughter.

"I truly do not think you want to know the answer, Captain. I've been a Courtesan for years."

Steve looks down and away, steeling his expression before he glances back at Tony.

Tony places his wineglass to the side and squeezes Steve's hand. "Stop, don't think about it. You mean the world to me."

Steve nods and puts his plate on the floor that serves as the table behind them. Before the awkward quiet eats at them the siren rings again announcing the appearance of the racers from the docking bay.

Outside the main view port of the dome he sees the racers appear. There are a number of monitors set up in the viewing dome so that they can watch every aspect of the recerts. Of the dozen ships lined up to take the course, Steve can identify four of them. The purple one is his crew while sidled up to it is Danvers’ crew in the brazen yellow ship. Close to that is the black one driven by Vanko and his navigator. Steve isn't sure who it is, but he knows that Vanko serves as both the Captain of his hauler and Pilot because no one else will pilot for him. Sitting next to Vanko is the Coulson's crew the readout states on the monitor. The ship is a midnight blue with silver striping.

The rest of the racers are from various Corps and other interests like the Guilds. He wonders if the Courtesan Guild has a pilot up for recerts. As he's about to ask Tony about it, the call to begin is issues and the ships fly past the dome windows in a blur of motion. He sits up and as he does so the back of the lounge follows him, cushioning and supporting. Tony grabs hold of his hand and they watch as the ships follow the beacons and cascade downward into the field of planetoids and rock and ice and debris. The monitors switch and they have a full view of the racers as they veer through the maze of planetoids. The Marvel crew takes the lead and Natasha follows on their tail while Melinda May from Coulson's crew vies for position with Vanko. The black ship jockeys and nearly knocks against the hull of the dark blue ship. Melinda spins the craft on its side and skirts through two colliding asteroids to avoid the collision. Vanko pops upward and then drops back down, narrowly avoiding the race boundary markers of beacons.

Hissing, Steve grips onto Tony's hand and concentrates as Natasha and Darcy race neck and neck through the cluttered field. Natasha is known for her cool demeanor but Darcy can be a hot commodity, risking it all. Steve whistles as Darcy blasts through an ice rock. He cannot believe she'd take that risk, since there's no way to tell so quickly with scanners if the debris is strictly ice or has a rocky core. The Marvel leaps ahead but Natasha fights for second with a swoop of the purple racer, down and around the planetoid.

A ringing signifies that a racer is in trouble and Steve turns to see that Vanko has bullied one of the ships he's not familiar with its crew off the course. The ship and their crew fly back to the station and Vanko continues the race.

"That's completely unfair," Steve says.

"That is life in a nutshell, my dear Captain," Tony says and offers a chocolate dipped fruit to Steve. He opens his mouth automatically and Tony lines his lips with the melted chocolate. It surprises him enough that he turns his attention to Tony. "You look delightful."

"And you're insatiable."

Tony licks the chocolate from Steve's lips and tangles his tongue in his mouth. Leaning back, he looks at Steve and says, "You're not wrong."

Steve smiles and engages in another kiss, he can see the purpose of having a secluded dome for their activities. Another announcement of Coulson's crew in trouble though pulls him from Tony's embrace. He peers over Tony's shoulder, since the man is now plopped on his lap, and sees that Vanko's racer butts up and under the Coulson ship. May's trying to handle it as Ward must be working to find a clean course through the debris field.

"Damn it, I think I hate that guy," Steve says and cringes as the top of Vanko's ship hits the underbelly of Coulson's racer. "He's a nuisance."

"He's more than that, he's a criminal," Tony says and turns to recline against Steve. Steve folds his arms around Tony's waist and loves the feel of his weight against him.

"Criminal?" But Steve doesn't listen to the reply because as he queries, Vanko swerves his ship above a rock and lands it down almost in front of the Coulson racer. May has to do a hard to port to avoid the collision. "What the hell is he doing?"

"Eliminating the competition. He'll be on our crew in a short minute." Tony has his wine glass again and points to the monitors as the ships curve around the mass of planetoids, dwarfs, and debris. "They're coming into Devil's hole."

"Devil's hole," Steve says through gritted teeth. "They have to thread the needle." The ships run toward the narrowest of orbits near a cluster of forming planets that can pulverize the ships in seconds or whip them outward with a gravity sling shot. The nebula obscuring clouds will make it exponentially more difficult.

The Marvel crew and the Commando crew pilot clean and clear toward the impending trap while another ship, one that Steve doesn't know, tries to compete for the lead by hopping forward. The pink racer squeezes past them but miscalculates as the pathway through funnels down. The screen cameras capture it as the ship hits the largest planetoid and flings its main section outward, crashing in a mass of debris. Both the Marvel crew and his crew need to pull up and avoid the parts of the ship. He's not sure the crew of the doomed pink racer survived but there's a jettisoned escape pod.

Natasha curves her ship around and bullets it through the hole to take the lead as the Marvel crew follows. The Coulson crew has lost Vanko's tail and curves in like a nice S to drop through the hole as well. He's not sure he sees Vanko anymore while the rest of the ships continue toward the hole. Two of the remaining ships collide as they try to get through the space at the same time. Neither breaks apart but both are severely damaged and cannot finish the race. They are immediately disqualified.

The ships head toward the Maze and Steve sinks back into the lounger.

"A little stressed Captain?" Tony says and turns around draping his body over Steve's.

"A little, the Maze will be the hardest part."

"Especially since they'll bring out the sniper pod targets there," Tony says. "But we have a five minute reprieve while they fly there."

He begins to line kisses up and down Steve's face, tonguing his way to Steve's earlobe and then following downward to the vulnerable places of his throat. 

"You are truly incorrigible." Steve smiles and knows he should pay attention to the race, but Tony is in his arms and the feel of his lips, his tongue, his weight upon Steve burdens him with not a need but more of an urgency. He has these few precious moments to make a difference, to change Tony's mind.

"Let me give you a quick hand job," Tony says and unclips Steve's belt. "I have one of my lube discs, it won't take long, I can get you off before the first sniper pod relay."

"Tony, I don't think-."

"You don't have to think, Captain, that's the whole point."

Steve giggles and realizes how absolutely absurd he sounds, but he's not abashed or sorry for it. He loves being able to allow himself to be free of the constraints of his station, of the legend, yet at the same time Tony builds him up. He supports him, makes him want to be Captain America again. 

"You're thinking again, stop thinking," Tony says and his hand is busy at work, stroking and caressing Steve.

"Like you ever do," Steve says and it is a playful accusation. "But seriously, I don't think you should do that." He stills Tony's hand and feels the tighten need deep in his groin. Just the weight of Tony on him, the presence of Tony heightens Steve's desire, increases his libido. What happened to being able to go months without it? Now it is only hours.

"Come, dear Captain, do you want something other than my hand?" Tony murmurs in his ear with hot whispered words. "How about my mouth, my tongue." He licks along Steve's sensitive neck.

Steve reclines backward, ready to give in but then the alarm sounds and the announcement that the Maze section of the race with sniper pod engagement will start sounds. He dislodges Tony in an effort to sit up. "Sorry, sorry, Tony."

Tony only laughs and shakes his head. "Seriously, the race?"

"These are my people, Tony," Steve says and Tony sobers and nods. 

"Okay, but after, after I get to do you right here in the viewing dome."

"Whatever you say, dear," Steve says and Tony colors a rosy hue. Steve smiles and a kind well of pain digs deep into his chest. He lowers his eyes for a moment, and Tony is practiced enough to direct the conversation elsewhere. 

He pours Steve a drink and sips some of his own wine. "The Maze, can be tricky."

"Especially with the sniper pod," Steve says and hunches forward. Tony slips in behind him and begins massaging his shoulders. 

"This is shit," Tony says and, as Steve peeks over his shoulder, he sees Tony shrug off the Courtesan Sherwani and toss it aside. He quirks a brow at Tony. "It's coming off anyway when I have my way with you."

Steve only smiles and likes the black muscle shirt Tony wears, though it must look silly with the silk pants. Tony slaps him and tells him to pay attention to the race as he begins the massage again.

Tony's fingers are like liquid gold. He's talented in more ways than Steve can count. Before he can remark on it, the racers come into view of the monitors and the group in the front include the Marvel crew, his crew, Vanko, and Coulson's ship. It's crowded and tight; the flight through the nebula cloud will be dense and risky, plus the robot drones are deployed for the sniper pods, specifically targeting those ships that opted in for the extra credits.

The leaders fan out as if on cue with the rest of the racers lagging behind them. Darcy dives into the cloud without hesitation while Natasha follows a course inward that probably only Clint can see. Within the cloud will be more obstacles from the nascent stars to more planetoids and other particulate that will encumber their progress. This part of the race is more about skill than speed and is especially designed to enhance the interaction of the navigator and the pilot. With the sniper pod engaged, all three have to play an important role to be able to survive the race, let alone win it.

As the ships enter the cloud, the robot drones streak toward them, targeting the ships. Two of the drones go after the Howling Commando crew, another two race after a green ship, while four more are closing in on Vanko's ship and Coulson's crew. The Marvel boat is nowhere to be found in the iridescent cloud. Vanko maneuvers his ship to sidle up toward Coulson's racer. May swerves a distance away but Vanko keeps on her tail while the robots fire a barrage of weaponry at them. Skye in the sniper pod does a quick job of dispatching two of the robots. As Steve watches the display, Tony whistles and flinches.

"What?"

"Your boy almost got fried, does Bucky know what the hell he's doing?" Tony says and points to one of the other monitors. 

Bucky has the sniper pod extended all the way from the ship, swinging wildly to attack as many of the robots as possible as they flirt with the outside of the nebula. He has to get hit his targets prior to jumping into the cloud, otherwise they'll be blind and vulnerable. Two more robot drone zero in on Bucky and Natasha pilots the ship to a forty-five degree angle to them so that Bucky can literally hang over them to shoot. Luckily, the drones are not as mobile and cannot quickly adjust their attack. As Bucky strikes the target, Natasha must wheel him back in because the racer bolts off toward the cloud as the sniper pod snaps back into place. 

"Damn it," Steve says, huffing a little as the tension builds. 

"We got a bad situation," Tony says and taps his earbud. "JARVIS, can you do anything about Vanko?"

Steve switches monitors to see that Vanko has navigated his ship behind the Coulson racer, effectively using it as a shield between it and the robot drones. Several of the drone fire but the Coulson ship takes the bombardment. Skye has the pod extended, but it's juddering as if she's trying to bring it back into place on the ship. 

"It's stuck," Steve mutters and blinks as another round of fire hits the pod. Vanko dips his ship low and literally scrapes the top of it along the belly of the midnight blue racer. 

"JARVIS is monitoring, but he can't access the racer's ops. He can tell me they have a hull breach that isn't serious, but-."

"Oh shit," Steve says and Vanko hurls his ship up and over the top of the Coulson boat. Even as May tries to adjust her path and Ward must be feeding her a new course, Vanko slams forward to hit the sniper pod's arm. It crashes hard and separates the pod from the ship.

"Fuck," Tony says and clutches onto Steve's hand. "I liked that girl."

"She's not dead yet," Steve says and focuses on the sniper pods as the robot drones disperse and an emergency rescue ship hurtles forward. The Coulson racer is damaged and limping in the field while the pod tumbles out of control.

“Come on, Skye," Tony says. "You can do this."

"You know her?"

Tony only shrugs. "She's a brilliant hacker. Might need her someday." 

Even as the rescue vehicle latches onto the Coulson racer, Skye gets the pod under control and fires up its emergency engines to direct it back to the Station. Just as Steve relaxes his arms around Tony, the three other ships are in view and the Marvel and Commando crews reappear from the cloud.

"They must be green lighted because the monitor say they hit all the marks in the field," Tony says.

"We still have some robot drone-." Steve stops and looks to the window. To the side a streak of white brilliant light as if he's looking into the center of a star pierces the side of the Station. "What the hell?"

An alarm rings out at the same time, it screeches and the monitors flicker. 

"JARVIS? JARVIS? Can you patch into the Station's systems, we got something appearing on the planetoid side of the Station."

Tony climbs off of Steve and stand at the windows. Steve joins him, buckling up his belt. "What the hell is that Tony?"

He leans further into the window and he can see that the arc of light stretches out into the dark of space, but ends in a large hole, like a tear in space. When he looks at the hole, it shines bright and blindingly.

"What are you reading, JARVIS?"

Steve glances at Tony and then back at the hole. The Station shudders and alarms wail out. Tony grabs Steve's jacket and jerks him along. As Tony clutches his sleeve, the entire Station heaves and, for a second, the artificial gravity disengages and then switches back on. They both tumble to the floor, with Steve helping Tony back to his feet again.

"What's going on, Tony?"

"We don't have time. Do you have a comm link?"

Steve nods and fishes it out of his pocket. He flicks on the comm link. "What's happening? What is that?"

"From JARVIS’ quick analysis, it's some kind of singularity to a wormhole like a doorway or portal or some shit."

The Station rebels again and quakes in response to the streak of light passing through its lower level. It jostles them and they lurch forward, crashing against the support beams. 

Struggling to stand, Steve stuffs the earbud in and taps it. "Clint, do you read? Natasha?" 

Tony grabs his sleeve and pulls him along through the juggernaut of people trying to find a safe haven as the Chromes tilts and the gravitational stabilizers get thrown off balance. Getting through the crowd of disoriented people becomes like a game in the Grids, and vids – he feels tossed about but Tony is his anchor and he concentrates on using his strength to move them through the crowds.

"Right here, Cap," Clint says. "What the fuck is going on? What the hell is that thing we’re seeing? We got all kinds of disturbances out here, and the gravitational meters are going haywire. Seems like that thing’s got some pull to it."

"Tony thinks it's a door or a portal?" Steve says and knows it sounds more like a question than it should.

"A door way to what?" Natasha asks. The Station trembles again as if it is a tree battered by hurricane winds. The sharp cut of the ‘winds’ cause it to sway and bend. It isn’t supposed to bend, it isn’t supposed to sway. The effect leads to the branches strained beyond their dimensions and alerts for breaches.

Tony clamps onto Steve and they huddle in a side passageway waiting for the tremor to stop. At one point, the artificial gravity shifts and Steve uses all of his strength to hold them in place, clutching Tony to his chest and curling his other arm around a support beam. When the Station stabilizers come back, the tremors cease. 

The announcements from the Station’s control bridge to remain calm are ignored and the hysteria ramps up as the Station security tries to force order. Tony drags him away from the wall and points to a side access hall; they take it.

A crackling through the static in his ear, and Natasha is on the line again. “Captain, do you read? A door way to what? What’s going on?”

"I don't know." 

Tony directs him through the screaming crowd as the Station's alarms warn all occupants to safe port. Safe port – Steve cringes. Safe port is only used when a Station is undergoing a catastrophic failure of some sort. Security forces are out in droves, pushing the crowds back to restore some semblance of order. Steve hears Tony instructing JARVIS on what Pepper should do. He keeps his fingers crossed that she can make it back to the ship. He tries not to think about Loki and Thor. 

Interrupting his thoughts, Clint says, "Who's there?"

Clint question jolts Steve. "What do you mean?" Steve answer as Tony stuffs them both in a service elevator. Steve protests for a moment, he really should look for the Asgardian brothers before cutting out and disappearing. He mouths their names to Tony. Tony raises a finger, nods, and presses his own earbud to engage JARVIS again.

"Well, you said it's a door, right?" Clint is saying into his earpiece.

"Yes, yes a door, that's what Tony thinks it is," Steve says. The elevator rings out the floors. If they are lucky they will arrive before the security and control levels cut off the elevators.

"It is a door, JARVIS is detecting readings identical to that of the tesseract," Tony hisses. He’s tapping his foot and pounding out a rhythm as the elevator clicks through the levels.

"Well, if it's a door, it opens both ways, right, doors open both ways. Who's there and who's opening it?" Clint says and Steve opens his mouth to answer when there's a grinding sound through the link and he can't get a good signal anymore.

"The links gone dead." Steve pulls it out of his ear and Tony grabs it as they exit the lift. The throngs of people racing in the corridors and threading through the branches of the Station batter at them as they try to force their way through the crowds toward the docking bay. "Do you know where Pepper is?"

"She's with Danvers, JARVIS has a handle on it. We have to get over to the Station stabilizers," Tony says and directs Steve to the lower levels.

“Don’t you think the Chromes technicians will be able to handle it, Tony? We should just get back to the docking bay and make sure the crew gets safely on broad.”

“The techs on Stations are used to dealing with low oxygen levels and the infrequent asteroid impact, they have no idea how to deal with a hole in space. This way." They enter through a recessed alcove. The long hallway is dark with only dim light from infrequent light panels along the baseboards. “We need to find the engineering control panel for the artificial gravity and stabilizers.” 

The Station answers him by trembling again as if every branch vibrates with the sudden shifts of gravity. The pressure on Steve’s chest pushes and locks his ribs in place. Tony clings to him as the gravity feels as if a boulder landed on him. As quickly as it appeared the feeling dissipates. 

“Come on, it’s only going to get worse.” 

"The stabilizers?"

"'If I’m right, and I always am, the engineering level is below the main docking bays, but we can't get there by the elevators. We have to climb down." Tony turns his attention back to JARVIS and starts to quiz him about the station's status.

"Find out about Loki and Thor while you're at it," Steve says as they run down the service hall.

"JARVIS isn't a hound dog, he doesn't track people." Tony says as they weave their way through the few technicians on alert and swarming through the hallways.

One of them calls out to them, demanding to know who they are and what they think they are doing. Before Steve can open his mouth, Tony answers, “Captain Rogers wants a full report on what the hell happened, and why this happened on your watch, boy.” 

Steve attempts to play the part Tony paints for him by glaring at the young technician, but he thinks he fails. Luckily though the technician falls for it and points down the corridor. “Find the issue in the main control room, Captain.”

Finding the ladder to the service deck, he starts down it with Tony close behind him. At that moment the Station reacts to the attack of the portal beam by veering and the artificial gravity doesn’t adjust correctly. The jerk is violent and Tony careens off the ladder, but the gravity switches back on and he plummets into Steve. Reacting, Steve throws out his arm and clamps onto Tony, catching him. He dangles from Steve’s one armed grasp, and his Courtesan slippers fall.

“Shit, I liked those slippers,” Tony says.

“You can get them when we get to the bottom,” Steve says through clenched teeth. “Just grab onto the rail.”

Thankfully, Tony doesn’t argue and they are descending again.

Tony says. "I hope you know you are not using this as an excuse to get out of a good fuck."

Steve shakes his head as he hops down the last rungs. He stumbles to a stop. Ahead of him is a large panorama of the nebula cloud with the bolt of light searing into the station. The side of the station is fused to the bright light. "Damn it, what is that?"

"Doorway," Tony says. He gives it little attention as he heads toward the main bay of the engineering room for the station. It is in a scramble of technicians as they work to assess the damage.

“Captain Rogers on deck,” Tony announces and several of the technicians straighten. One of the managers glowers at them and is about to challenge Tony’s declaration. Tony starts to spew his analysis of the current situation. "The gravitational arc engines have been severely disable due to the presence of a portal or wormhole. That singularity out there is frying your circuits. Captain, the stabilizers should be around the consoles here, somewhere. JARVIS can you search- yes, yes, I get that you are not technically allowed. But do it anyway." Tony tosses Steve the earbud back. "Get them on the line and get them to ready the ship."

Steve connects up again. "Clint? Nat? Bucky?"

"We're on deck, it's pretty much a riot out here, Cap," Natasha says. "I got Bucky and Clint protecting the Commando, but I'm not sure how long I can do it for."

The manager is having none of their intrusion and decides it’s best to alert security. Steve only grabs his hand, twists it, and, with his other hand, punches the console. The communications goes dead. “I don’t think so. Get your people to help, Sir Stark, or get out.”

"What the hell?" Tony says and startles Steve. He whips around to look at the display of the light beam and sees a horde of dark spots emerging from the light, surging downward like locusts. "That's an invasion. Captain, we have an invasion force."

"Invasion?" Natasha says, overhearing Tony’s theory. "What is Stark talking about?"

"We have incoming of unknown origin through the tesseract stream," Steve reports. "Inform the deck officer, alert the Station’s security force." It won’t matter; it isn’t like the station has an armed force to protect it. The security guards are nothing like an army.

Abruptly the station manager of engineering goes pale and he staggers backward. 

“Officer,” Steve says. “I think you should listen to me, and listen well. We need to get the stabilizers and the gravitational core back on line, where can we do that?”

As he asks, the station screeches another alarm and the gravity disappears for seconds. Enough to cause everyone at the engineering bay to tumble to the grated floor when it comes back on line again.

“Fuck this, I have had enough – tell me where?” Tony yells.

The manager, a tall, thin rail of a man points to the central console and then adds, “The core is in the mid-section over there.” He indicates a huge well, a large central hole in the level.

While Tony pushes aside a clueless technician, Steve turns to address the manager. He’s supposed to be the head engineer but he smells of alcohol and Steve glimpsed a drug ring binding his tongue. 

“Do you have a protocol for what to do if the artificial gravity destabilizes?” Steve asks.

The man taps his temple and mumbles something, several of his technicians mutter. One, a short woman with thick braided hair, says, “He ain’t gonna tell you much of anything. He’s little help ‘round here, as are the rest of these freaks.”

Steve frowns but before he can say anything the station sustains another wave of gravitational instability and the manager along with most of his staff scatters. Steve rushes after them, but calls do nothing to stop their exodus.

“Don’t matter much, they ain’t a help around her,” the woman says.

“Captain,” Tony says from the main console. “I need eyes in the core, can you-?”

The station convulsions under them and he latches onto a support beam. Tony clamps onto the console he’s working on. He glances out the bay windows and sees the invasion force flies off of the light stream toward the station. “Whoever they are, they’re getting closer.”

“Captain, the feeds down and I can’t get a good view of the core?” Tony says pulling his attention away from the swarm of ships. “Get to the core, please.”

“Sure, sure, okay,” Steve says only half noticing that the woman tech has disappeared along with the rest of her work colleagues. 

He races to the mid-section core and looks down the large multi-leveled core. The wide expansive looks like a huge hive with levels stacked in a honeycomb array. Within the hive lies the gravitational core and the stabilizers. Far below he detects that there’s a breach in the hull of the station and the beam of light from the portal ends somewhere several stories below him.

“Looks like we have a breach,” Steve says as he hangs over the rail to the array. “It’s holding, the shielding must be working?”

“Detecting it, but the safety protocols are still in play. It should keep the place intact until I can get the core back on line.” Tony taps his ear and says, “Got it JARVIS. Captain, is there any way to get a better view. The entire core is dark on the console feed.”

“What do you need to see?”

“Just the main energy source panels-.” Tony walks over to join him just as the Station groans in response to the instability of its environs. They both grab hold of the rail and hang on as the stabilizers flicker. Once the quake ends, Tony points to the first layer of the honeycomb below. “The energy source panels should be in the main core at the first level. Can you check out the alpha panels and read back what you find to me over the comm link. JARVIS will patch me through to you.”

“Sure-.” Before he moves though, Natasha links through.

“Cap, I’m sending Hawkeye to come watch your back while you work on the stabilizers. The Station is completely crazy, people are trying to get off the bucket, but at the same time vandalizing it.”

“Damn it,” Steve says and searches around the service room. “Tell Hawkeye we’re in level sub-two service right underneath the main docking bay.”

“On my way, Cap,” Clint says and Steve turns back to Tony. He’s back at the console. Tony works for several minutes, through which the station suffers several storms of gravitational fluctuations. At one point, Steve ends up on top of Tony, and the man snickers at him. “There are easier ways to get in my pants, Captain.”

“And here I thought you liked a little bit of creativity.”

“Oh, sassy, Captain can be sassy.” Tony says as Steve pushes off of him. Clambering to his feet, Tony examines the read out. “This is worse than I thought.”

“What’s the status?”

“However they’re using the tesseract, it isn’t stable. It’ll flood the station with gamma irradiation if it’s not shut down soon.” Tony taps through the console as another tremor hits the Station. He pulls up layer upon layer of figures and numbers at dizzying speeds. “We need to get a good view of the core and those source panels.”

“Understood, Tony,” Steve says and grips the rail of the gravitational array but a clatter from the entrance corridor halts him.

Hawkeye walks in with his bow in hand. 

“Hawk, we might need some help-.” He stops when he sees that Hawkeye is with Loki, and Selvig trails behind him. “Loki?”

“If you would do the honors,” Loki says and Hawkeye notches an arrow in his bow. 

“Just what are you doing?” Tony walks into Hawkeye’s line of sight – blocking Steve from his view. “Like your new look there, very ringer druggie look.”

Steve’s not sure what Tony refers to.

“Stark, it would be my pleasure to blow you away, but-.”

Loki steps in front of Hawkeye as Steve climbs back over the rail. Loki speaks, “Stark, I would be grateful if you came along peacefully.”

“Came along?” Tony asks but the station seems to constrict with the forces of gravity playing havoc with all of them. It sighs and heaves. They end up toppled on the floor. Steve hangs onto the rail.

As Loki stands up and shakes his head he says, “You see, dear Courtesan, my brother has no foresight, no imagination. He glimpses only parts of the universe and what it could be. I, on the other hand,” Loki says and, for the first time, Steve sees he’s holding a staff – the one that had been attached to the wall in Steve’s quarters on the Commando, the one that was next to the hammer in the borrowed quarters. Tony scrambles to his feet, but keeps his distance from the mad Asgardian. “I know when to call it a day and move on toward other means of procuring my goal.”

Standing only a meter from Tony, Loki smiles both Hawkeye and Selvig flank him. Their eyes look glossy and dazed. Something is terribly wrong, Hawkeye would never turn on him, never purposefully, never intentionally. He must be playing at some game with Loki, working to catch him in the act of whatever mischief he’s planning.

“So you see, Stark, you’ll forgive me when I ensure that you will not be missed.” He strikes out, aiming the scepter directly at Steve, a bolt hits him in the chest and he pitches over the rail. He feels nothing but shock, at first. A searing pain shoots through his chest and he struggles for air as he cartwheels his arms fighting for purchase within the chasm of the array. The gravitational core rebels again, and he slams into the honeycombed wall of the array, clutching onto it once the levels even out again.

He hears Tony in the comm link.

“You think you’re going to throw a living legend over a handrail and kill him, get him out of the way?” Tony goads. “Captain, are you there? Could use some help.”

The burn on his chest sends daggers of pain through his pectorals but he’s grateful that he’s still able to hang onto the array. He might be able to climb over to the ladder.

“Captain?”

“Little busy here.”

“It seems our resident mad demi-god wants to bring me on a little ride. He’s got his buddies, the Chitauri, here, and he’s evidently collecting trophies or people he thinks might help him find a way to stabilize the tesseract.” 

Steve peers up from the core, but cannot glimpse them from his angle. He can only hope that Tony can slow down Loki enough for him to get back up to the main floor of the engineering level. 

“No, nope, don’t think I’m doing that,” Tony says and Steve can only guess what Loki said. He reaches out and the pain explodes over his chest, making him pant in short gasps. The wound must be deep since the serum doesn’t immediately dull the pain.

“Hang on, Tony,” Steve says through clenched teeth, beads of sweat pool at his waist from his back as he crab-crawls his way across the array. 

Another round of blasts from the staff and he hears Tony curse. “JARVIS.”

JARVIS answers in each of their comm links. “Yes, sir. I have activated, and am ready to deploy at your command.”

“Deploy?” Steve says.

“Now, now would be good,” Tony says and his voice sounds strained, almost choked. 

“JARVIS?” Steve yells and glances upward again as Clint trains his arrow directly at Steve. 

“Deployed, sir. Traveling at its current velocity from your dome suite, it should reach you in less than three minutes,” JARVIS says.

Steve looks up to the main level only to see Hawkeye standing over him, bow and arrow aimed true. 

“No,” Tony says, which rattles Steve’s nerves because he knows that Tony’s speaking to Loki, not to him and, through his voice, Steve recognizes the stress.

“Tony?”

“Loki’s going to have Clint shoot you if I don’t agree to go with them.”

“Clint won’t shoot me,” Steve says.

“Not sure with the happy moon juice look these guys have,” Tony says. 

Steve stretches, grabs hold of the next honeycomb array to try and move out of Clint’s sights. As he does Loki shoves Tony up against the rail above Steve’s head. He has Tony by the throat with the staff more like a spear to his back. 

“Do you wish your love to be dead, dear Courtesan, or were you just playing him as all in your fine and dignified profession do? Do tell?” Loki must squeeze because Tony claws at his throat. “I will have your bow-master kill him.”

“Don’t do it, Tony,” Steve says.

“I would rather have you come along with me voluntarily if I cannot use the tesseract to convince you,” Loki says. “But I can sweeten the pot. Hawkeye, if you will?”

The arrow flies and whizzes just past Steve’s shoulder. He shifts and grunts against the pain from the strain on the burn across his chest. “Hawkeye,” Steve cries out. “What the hell-.”

“Oh don’t waste your breath, Captain,” Loki says.

The Station rolls as the gravity wavers and Steve is flung to the other side of the array. He hits hard against the honeycomb structure and tries for purchase. Even as the station steadies, Clint must get up again because another arrow is loosed and flies true. It hits Steve in the small of the back. He’s an easy target for Hawkeye, hanging like a bug on display.

“JARVIS?” Tony says.

“Sir, you should-.”

Clint releases another arrow and Steve fights to avoid it and keep his hold onto the array while the station rolls. He miscalculates and the arrow punctures him through his bicep. He releases his hold on the array, plummets several meters before scraping a new handhold onto the side beams. He’s closing in on the ripped hole in space, the forces tug and pull on him. Another strike by Clint and he’ll be sucked into the gravitational vortex created by the attack. 

“Tony,” Steve rasps out and twists around to see Loki’s contorted face. 

“You will come with me or he will be dead. How long do you think he can hold on against the forces of nature?” 

Even as Steve strains to see Tony, he hears them grappling, struggling for dominance. He peers up in time to see Loki toss Tony to the floor, stalking over him like a predator. Instantly, Tony jumps up and, insanely, leaps over the rail.

“Tony,” Steve cries out at the same time Tony screams, “JARVIS?” 

Bursting on the scene, a long gold and red cylinder like large case chases Tony. Steve recognizes it as one of the many luggage cases Tony traveled with and brought to the dome. It shoots downward. He can only describe it like a torpedo launched from its bay. It transforms as it tracks Tony, opening, blossoming outward to wrap about Tony, forming a suit of armor. Once completely encased, Tony shoots upward in the robotic-like armor, directs his palms, and fires the repulsors. Steve loses the rest of the display as the station yawns again with the gravity quakes hitting it hard, crushing it. He tumbles free of the grid he’s clinging to, and barks out his surprise. 

The shaft from the arrow in his arm catches in the grid and, for a second, slows his progress, but then it snaps, tearing at the wound. Something dislodges from the array, a panel, and smacks him in the head, splitting open his face. He blinks from the assault but it’s too fast, and too blurred in motion for him to do anything. The station begins to peal apart, the flying debris crashing into him. He can’t hold on, his bruised and battered body gives in, his fingers lose their tenuous grip, and he surrenders.

He falls.


	16. Chapter 16

He plummets toward the open maw of the gravity core; it will shred him in seconds. He scratches at the metal edges of the honeycomb, trying to find a handhold. But his injured arm fails him and he suffers another crushing hit from loosened instrument panels ripped free from e hull. He grunts out a curse, and attempts to heave himself into one of the honeycomb cubbies. In the near distance he hears a cry – his name.

“Steve!” 

He wants to answer, but the station undergoes another gravitational seizure. His body bashes against the wall of the array, then slides downward to the vortex, the abyss where the gravity array meets the invading tesseract beam. One of the arrows breaks and he grunts as he claws at the grating of the honeycombed core. 

Something grabs onto him, lifts him, frees him of the gravity well. He barely registers it as the shift in position scorches him with new pains from his wounds. He vaguely registers that his head aches and blood drips into his eyes. 

“Hey there, Captain, stay with me.”

He latches onto Tony, or tries to, but nothing works. His head pounds, the burn on his chest aches, and the arrow wounds tug. Tony lands on the main level of engineering. Steve cannot see his face due to the helmet. None of it makes sense and he considers whether he’s hallucinating or delirious.

“Tony?” He wobbles as Tony sets him down, but a metallic hand braces him.

“Keep with me, I can’t fly through the station and, truth be told, it’s too damaged beyond repair now,” Tony says and he glimpses the hull fissures. “We have to get to the Commando.”

“Hawkeye?” Steve manages as he sways on his feet.

“Not here, I expect he’s off with goof-ball god, and his weird alien friends.”

“Alien?” He’s not tracking, his head pounds and agony in his gut from the arrow twists and nauseates him.

“Not now,” Tony says as pushes him forward, keeping him propped up with a shoulder under his arm. “We’ll discuss the latest headlines when we get to the ship.”

Starting the trip back to Commando, they have to stop several times since the world funnels to darkness every few seconds to Steve, and he topples to the side, or crumples in Tony’s arms. The arrow in his back digs deep and he arches against the pain. 

“Captain, Steve,” Tony says and kneels on one knee next to him. He places a gauntleted hand on Steve’s back. His faceplate lifts. “Do you want me to pull it out? Remove it?”

Steve only nods, the pain in his chest, the remaining broken shaft stuck in his arm, the various bruises and cuts beat in time with his racing heart. 

“On the count of three; one, two-.” Tony yanks at the shaft and Steve arches up and screams. “Damn it to hell.” Tony stares at the shaft, the arrowhead is missing.

“Barbed, Hawkeye uses a barbed arrowhead that deploys once it’s struck its target. Releases shrapnel into the wound, very deadly,” Steve pants between each word. His throat seizes and it becomes harder to breath. He sucks in air and it feels like an asthma attack all over again.

“Fuck,” Tony says and his faceplate slams shut. “Hold on to your boots, Captain, because we’re getting out of this nightmare.”

Before Steve protests, Tony scoops him up, bridal style and shoots through the narrow corridor. “We’re right below the main docking bay, if I do this right we can get there in seconds.”

He bites back a cry of pain. The blood on his face blinds him and he fights to stay conscious. He knows his body and how the super soldier serum wants to work. He feels a slow ache, spreading inside and he knows there’s more to his injuries. It means his injuries are serious and the puncture wounds from the arrows and the burn to his chest are competing for its attention. 

“Here we go, Captain, brace yourself,” Tony says and they rocket up through an access tube, and then Tony fires a burst at the side wall. Crashing through it, they tumble forward, Steve flying free of Tony’s embrace. He grunts while climbing to his feet. 

The first thing that hits him is the mass hysteria of the docking bay. People swarm everywhere, the security guards shove them back with electric whips. The shock and horror of it freezes him.

He hears Tony in the comm link before he picks up sight of him again. “God damned Hammer selling those whips.”

People shriek as the whips crackle through the air, keeping everyone away from the bay. The station shudders again and alarms screech. He takes a step toward the crowd, to stop the madness even though he’s in no shape to try. 

_Alert, the station is currently undergoing catastrophic gravitational failure. Alert, the station’s hull is critically damaged. Please go to the nearest emergency domes for shelter._

As the security guards try to herd the vast majority of the crowds away from the docking bay, Tony scrambles to him and grabs his arm, dragging him into the fray. He resists because he needs to help the desperate, the hopeless.

“Whoa there, Captain, you’re in no shape.” He hauls Steve away from the confrontation. Entering the large bay, Steve spots the Commando with a horde of people surging forward toward it like a tidal wave. Shots are fired from the ship – not directly at the crowd and clearly warning them away- he can see someone in the sniper pod, but it isn’t Bucky. With his repulsors, Tony aims a few quick bursts above their heads and the people scatter. 

“Come on, Captain, you look like the walking dead,” Tony says as Steve staggers beside him. He can taste metal in his mouth, smell the rust of it in his nose. He gags and blood spews from his lips.

“I’ve-I’ve had be-better days.” He has to breathe through his mouth, the thickness of the air, the torture of inhaling makes it difficult to draw in a breath.

“I would hope so, darling,” Tony is saying as he tries for levity but fails.Steve sways, barely managing to grip Tony’s arm. Without further delay, Tony shoves through the barrage of people and forces them to the Commando. “Knock, knock.”

Steve is about to tell him they can’t hear him, but realizes that Tony is speaking through his link to the occupants of the ship. 

“Clear the deck, and I’ll let you in,” Natasha replies.

“Your Captain is in need of medical attention, get over it, and let us in.”

Several of the frightened people stand up and start forward, intent on getting into the ship. The armored suit’s shoulders open to reveal an array of miniature rockets ready to fire. Tony raises his hand, shoots off another round of fire at the ceiling and then turns back to the ship. “Now would be good.”

Instead of Natasha answering, the station respond with a resounding loss of power. The lights flicker out, the artificial gravity fails, and the emergency power roars to life. Floating and then flung back to the floor in seconds smashes the wound on his back and he clenches his teeth against the pain.

Below them the engineering level collapses in on itself, ripping the floor away and sending everyone on the docking deck plunging downward. The ships only stay in place due to their moorings. Steve grapples for anything to hang onto and the screams, the cries of so many stab at his chest, make the burn and his injuries hurt that much more. 

He hurtles through the gaping hole in the docking bay floor as the station contracts in on itself, crumpling like a tin can. Something slams into him and he’s falling along with a dozen other people, plunging downward as the press of gravity oscillating in stronger waves from the core tows him closer to the vortex in space. 

There’s nothing to grab onto, there’s no handhold, only other bodies and consoles, and beams colliding with him. Something hard and sharp strikes his chest and he suffers a hitched breath as he tries to inhale. Debris flies and like a hurricane pelts him in a barrage of endless impacts.

As he begins to panic, as he realizes he has no way out this time, hands – metallic hands clasp around him – hauling him upward back toward the docked ships. 

“Open the damned ramp now, Natasha,” Tony demands as he lifts them through the ever growing gravity waves. 

“Open and waiting, we don’t have much time-.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Tony says and flies directly into the Howling Commando. They crash into the cargo bay of the ship.

Steve isn’t sure what happens next, there are hands on him, and then abruptly Tony hunches over him, the suit of armor gone. “Captain? Come on, we’re going to launch and we don’t have part of the crew.”

“Crew? What?” His head fogs even as he tries to focus on Tony’s words. “Clint?”

“Gone,” Tony says.

Struggling to get to his feet, Tony presses him to lie back. “I need to get you in a safety harness, Captain.”

“Harness?” He’s not sure what happens next, since he fades out and then awakens again to find himself locked onto a bed. Arms are around him, jostling him and it sends a new definition of agony from the arrow wounds. Each movement shifts the lodged punctures and tears little torments through him.

“It’s no use, he’s bleeding internally.” Steve thinks it might be Bruce talking, but he isn’t sure since his surroundings feel like liquid – but not water – thick and viscous. “I’m not sure I can help him. We might have to wait for the serum to work it’s magic.”

“Not going to be enough time,” Natasha says like a whisper in his ear. “I need someone in navigation now.” 

“I can do it,” Steve mutters. He blinks open his eyes and Tony with Bruce hovering close frowns at him. 

“What?”

“Natasha,” Steve says and taps his ear comm link. It is still in place. “Needs someone in navigation.”

Tony glances at Bruce and then back at Steve. “I’ll go, you just patch him up.” 

Steve protests, attempting to sit up, but the straps prevent him and Tony departs without a word. As Steve collapses on the bed, he realizes he’s in their makeshift sickbay. It isn’t large and it’s crammed with cargo boxes and supplies for their deliveries on the Rim worlds. 

“Stay put,” Bruce says. “I have to deal with Bucky first, hopefully the serum will do its job.” He pushes Steve back onto the single bed.

“Bucky?” He wants to climb onto his feet, but his body feels strange as if he’s floating and shivering at the same time.

“Come on, Steve, don’t do this. You’re not supposed to go into shock.”

“Bucky?” He fights to maintain consciousness. He’s not sure what’s worse, the barbs imbedded in his arms and back or the trauma to his head and back from the impacts and collisions with parts of the station. 

“He’s injured, don’t worry about it. Worry about yourself,” Bruce says as he sets up a line. With a quick prick of the skin, he threads the needle into Steve’s arm. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but if I give you what you need we’ll eat through all the supplies.”

Nodding, Steve groans as the pain intensifies. “What about Bucky?” He needs to keep his head in the game, ignore the insistent need to fade into blackness, put aside the growing ache in his back and side from the shrapnel. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce says and opens up the line. “Lay back and rest.” He disappears from the small alcove they call the sick bay. 

Steve blinks against the darkness, forcing it away. It depletes most of his strength but the thoughts of Bucky injured drive him enough so that he battles his way through the fatigue of pain. He attempts to swing his legs over the side, notes the belts around his waist holding him in place, strips it off, and then grabs the i.v. line. Stumbling to his feet, he uses the hull for leverage and, by sheer force of will, manages to skirt around the cargo stored in the alcove to peer around it to the notch in the wall where Bruce has lain Bucky. 

Across Bucky’s chest and to the juncture of flesh meets his metal arm, large welts bubble up from electrical burns. The metal arm – what’s left of it sparks and fizzles. His closed eyes are bruised and his hair is messed over his reposed face.

“No,” Steve says and staggers the rest of the way.

Bruce turns from his hunched position over the unconscious figure on the bed. Bucky’s metal arm is twisted and partially missing. It gapes open to reveal burnt out circuits and flickering wires. 

“Steve,” Bruce says and races to his side, catching him as he collapses. “You have internal injuries, you’re shocky; you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“What happened to him?” Steve gasps as he clutches onto Bruce, and, with halting steps, makes it over to Bucky’s bedside. 

“He went to help some of the people, the guards hit him with one of those whips when he tried to get some young kids out of the way,” Bruce says and settles Steve on the edge of Bucky’s bed. “You shouldn’t be here, Steve, you’re more seriously wounded.”

Steve bends forward, nearly believing that Bruce might be right, yet he needs to stay by Bucky’s side. “The serum will take care of everything.” He tastes blood in his mouth again, and coughs into his palm. He hides his blood stained hand from Bruce.

Bruce only tugs it from his folded arms and says, “I’ll set up a cot in here, but after we jump.”

Steve nods and allows Bruce to lead him back to the bed, secure him, and check his vitals. Before Bruce finishes, Steve drifts off. 

When he wakes, it must be hours later because Tony sits next to the bed, his hair in disarray, his hands clasped, while his elbows are propped on his knees. He hunches forward with his head hanging low.

“Tony?” Steve says and he chokes on the dryness of his throat. “What?” His eyes feel warped like he’s slept too long and he can’t remember how to wake up properly.

“You’re hurt, very hurt, like critically, and we can’t do anything about it,” Tony says and sits up, slumped against the chair.

Steve drags a hand down his face and sighs; it hurts more than it should. “Serum, don’t worry.”

“You got quite a number of barbed shrapnel pieces in your back, probably lodged in all kinds of wicked places, and the serum while pretty nifty cannot spit out metal pieces from deep within your body.” Tony looks at him, his eyes hold an oldness to him as if he’s exhausted with the fight, as if the fight has finally won.

“Don’t,” Steve says and reaches out; the weight of his arm surprises him. 

Tony jumps up and grabs his arm, folding it to his chest near the arc reactor. “I placed an arc reactor near your side. It should keep the shrapnel from moving until we’re able to remove it.” He scrubs a hand through his hair; he doesn’t look like he’s slept in ages. “I didn’t want to implant it because I have no idea how the serum would react to it.”

None of what Tony’s saying makes sense to him, but he just allows the words to wash over him. It’s soothing to listen to Tony’s endless stream of consciousness. “So, we made it out of the station, but just by a hair. The mooring clamps were locked on. I had to write a virus and release it into the station’s computers to get the clamps to give way.”

“The station,” he mimics and his memories peel away until the harsh truth hits him. He remembers. “Bucky?” He bends forward but the motion causes tiny shivers of hot spikes through his lower back and near his spine cord.

Tony places a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, don’t move until we have a better idea if the shrapnel is going to slice your kidneys or severe your spinal cord.”

He lies back and swallows down the bile. Staring up into the middle distance, he says, “How’s Bucky?”

“Getting there?” Tony says. Steve turns to face him. “It isn’t pretty. You don’t have good first aid on this bucket, you know?”

Steve smiles and his teeth ache as his jaw moves. “How long?”

“Just under sixteen standard hours, Captain,” Tony says and brushes away the strands of hair plastered to Steve’s forehead. “You’ve been in and out of it, mostly on the side of out of it.”

“But Bucky? I should get up-.” He attempts to sit up but Tony’s hand is there, lowering him, pushing him to the bed.

“No, no you shouldn’t. He’s resting anyhow, so there’s not much for you to do,” Tony says. “Bruce is keeping an eye on him.”

Steve knows he should argue with Tony, he should muster his strength, and get out of the damned bed. But the shock of what happened, of how he’d been happily ignorant of everything and everyone, how he let himself enjoy the moments with Tony instead of dealing with his obligations and duty, depletes what little courage he has left.

“I should have, I should have kept better tabs on Thor and Loki,” Steve says and covers his face with his hand. He can feel the pucker of newly healing skin along the side of his face where he’d been sliced by the panel that knocked him in the head. “I’m responsible for this whole mess.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you really are a martyr.”

“And you’re not,” Steve mutters. He’s not well enough to debate with Tony, so he changes tactics. “We made the jump?”

“Yeah, yeah, we did, barely since the station was collapsing at the same time. The moorings wouldn’t release like I said and it was touch and go, but we freed the ship and a bunch of others once the virus I wrote infected the systems.”

“A lot of other ships?”

Tony looks away and Steve glimpses a gleam of wetness in his eyes as if he holds back tears. He bows his head and confesses, “No, no, not a lot.”

He hates to ask, “Pepper?”

Tony drops Steve’s hand, puts a distance between them. “Last JARVIS reported was that she was with the crew of the Marvel. They were able to board the ship, but I’m not sure they were able to launch before the station – before it – was torn apart. Fuck-.” He squeezes his eyes closed and fists his hands. When he looks at Steve again, his eye are ablaze. “I don’t even know if she’s alive or dead.”

“We can find out, right?” Steve says and, now, does find the strength to sit up, to shuffle across the floor, and pull Tony to him, one armed. He embraces Tony, cupping his head close. Steve buries his face in Tony’s hair. “She’s good, Carol knows what she’s doing.”

“I know, I should know,” Tony says but a shiver runs through him, telegraphs to Steve, and magnifies how much more pain and injuries they’ve sustained that are not tangible. 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve says and feels like a fool. The words _I’m sorry_ should be banned and forgotten. He clears the harsh cough from his throat and adds, “We’ll figure it out.”

Tony caresses a light hand down the side of Steve’s bruised face, he can feel the pull of stitches. He figures Bruce must have tried to piece him back together again, knowing that the serum would do the heavy lifting. 

“You shouldn’t be comforting me,” Tony murmurs and the playboy disappears to be replaced by a man haunted by more than shadows, a man terrified of real monsters, human monsters. 

“No,” Steve protests but the world feels massive and he’s only a weakling again with asthma. 

Tony nods as if conceding and it doesn’t feel like it’s a victory but more like a compromise. He picks at the corner of his eyes and sniffs before focusing on Steve again. “We got out of there, Natasha had me plot a course to some emergency place – something called-.”

“The Rendezvous,” Steve supplies. “It’s a place cargo haulers all meet up when there’s any type of upheaval.”

“I suppose an alien invasion is considered an upheaval.”

“Why?” Steve says and closes his eyes. When he shifts a well of agony burns sharp and acidic in his back. He tries not to move. “Why would Loki have aliens attack the Chromes?”

“Biggest hub of Human Space, that’s tactical genius. He saw an opening and took it.” Tony leads him back to the bed, helps him lie down. He follows Tony’s unspoken instructions, allows the comfort of the bed to silence the aches.

“I should have known better than to trust him,” Steve inches up on the pillows but has to smother a groan of pain. 

Tony squeezes his hand and presses a hand to his uninjured shoulder. “Stay put now, you really are seriously wounded. The shrapnel sliced and diced your insides.”

“Serum.”

“It isn’t going to save you if you don’t give it time to do its job and heal you,” Tony says and slumps back into the chair. “Listen, Steve, I think once we get to this Rendezvous point, I should hire a new hauler. I can probably book a luxury liner or some shit like that. It was always a possibility. The Captain of a liner won’t give a fuck who I am-.”

Steve struggles up onto elbows and ignores he spears of hot pokers in his back. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m taking you. You picked me for a reason, you picked me-.” It hits Steve full in the chest, like someone just punched his sternum and it splintered, cracks to stab sharp bone fragments into his heart. He collapses onto the cushions and he gulps in strangulated breaths. “My duty, my duty, you hired me to do my duty.”

Tony waves at him as if he’s trying to actively erase Steve’s epiphany.

“Any luxury liner, anyone would have just delivered you. But you picked me to do my duty.” His lungs constrict, and his vision narrows. Before everything grays out, before he’s losing his train of thought, he says, “You picked me to do my duty, as a Captain of the Honor Guard. Damn it, Tony, tell me I’m wrong? Tell me you didn’t hire me for my oath as a Captain of the Honor Guard?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Tony says. He bows his head. “Aren’t you tired, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He can’t even look at Steve, and it tells him more than a monologue filled with words.

“You picked me for my duty, for my oath,” Steve whispers and he realizes Tony hasn’t just decided on a suicide mission, he’s planned a war.

Tony stares at his clasped hands, and then unfolds them, gazing at his empty palms. “I learned long ago that people are not to be trusted. That there are only a few people in the whole of the universe that can be looked to, that I can place my life in their hands.”

“You came to me,” Steve says. His mind flips over, somersaults as the ideas formulate, as he feels it in the ache of his bones how Tony’s played the part so perfectly. “You came to me for the Honor Guard.”

“It was that, at first,” Tony admits. “But, believe me, it’s so much more now.”

“Now,” he murmurs and closes his eyes. He places a hand over his eyes. He wants the dark, he longs for the dark of space, where there are no stars to guide his way. He already knows his way, yet in some subtle almost horrifying manner he has cast it aside to try and escape it.

“It is, believe me.”

Steve opens his eyes, presses his lips together, and nods. “I believe you, I wish I didn’t. You made me believe you, you made me feel like this.” He puts a hand over his heart. The ache echoes and empties him. “But you’re asking me to keep my oath.”

“Yes, I’m asking you to do your duty.” Tony meets his eyes and there’s a sadness that resides. He knows Steve, down to his bones, and the hollows within, he knows Steve. An Honor Guard oath can never be broken, not by retirement, or death. To guard the freedoms and the rights of the human populace makes up the core of who Steve Rogers is. It isn’t just about being a perfect soldier, but about being a good man.

For too long he has sought out avoidance, accepting what he could not change. Now, he’s confronted with the inevitable, with what he had been built for. He moves and it sends a new definition of distress through his lower back and his shoulder. “Then help me up.”

“I don’t think you should be getting out of bed,” Tony says but, nonetheless, jumps to his feet to assist Steve.

“I need to see Bucky if we’re going to start a war, you need your best soldiers.”

“Not if you’re dead,” Tony says but allows Steve to lean on him as he reaches his feet to touch the cold floor. 

He hisses against the gnawing stress on his back, and notices that Tony, not only placed the small arc reactor against him, but also strapped it to his side to keep the shrapnel from moving. 

“Take it easy,” Tony says and ushers him with a supportive shoulder under his arm toward the outer area where Bucky rests. 

Grimacing, Steve shuffles over to Bucky’s side. He brushes Tony’s worries aside and edges next to Bucky on the bed. “Buck?”

His friend sleeps in a fitful slumber, his brows furrowed with his skin hot to the touch. The burns across his chest leave ravaged flesh that Bruce has applied antibiotic ointment to, but Steve wonders if it’s working at all. He places a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, careful to avoid the wounds.

“Bucky?”

His friend’s eyes fly open and he pants as he stares up at Steve. The disorientation, the heat of fever gloss his eyes.

“Bucky? Hey, how are you doing?” Steve says and knows in his gut he should back away. He sees the fear, the stunned confusion in Bucky’s eyes. Yet, he cannot leave his friend, not like this, not when he needs his advice, his help. He’s seen Bucky like this before, suffering from flashbacks, or nightmares. “Bucky, it’s okay, you’re on the Commando-.”

Bucky tries to move the mechanical arm and the gears grind and scrape. It hurts to hear the parts – and what’s left of the appendage – grate against one another, rebelling against the movement. 

From the side, Tony says, “I can fix it, I can work on it-.”

Surging upward Bucky seizes Steve by the throat with his one good hand and squeezes. Steve grasps Bucky’s arm and, through clenched teeth, says, “Bucky, Bucky, stop.”

Tony races to his side, trying to force Bucky to relent, but he twists on the cot and whacks Tony with the stump of his arm. Tony staggers backward as Steve tries to peel back Bucky’s fingers.

“Bucky,” Steve rasps. “Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

“Bucky, Bucky, remember,” he coughs against the vice grip. “Remember who you are.”

The words trigger the memories again, and Bucky falls back and shudders on the cot. He collapses in on himself, curling on the cot as the memories batter him.

“St-Steve?”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Steve says and pats Bucky’s hand. He swallows a few times against the thickness in his throat.

“Steve?”

“Shush, I’m here.”

Bucky nods and closes his eyes, exhaustion and pain pulling him under again. Under Steve’s touch he feels the heat of fever. He sees the welts across Bucky’s bare chest ooze and seep. Bucky’s not ready, not ready for a war. He may never truly be ready again. Cringing, Steve braces onto the cot as the lightheadedness swims over him.

He feels hands on his shoulders, feels a gentle motion to move him away and he follows it, if only for a moment to settle his thoughts, to stop remembering times gone by when Bucky hadn’t been Bucky. When Bucky had been a killing machine, out only to follow the next assignment. 

There are words – streams of words – cascading over him, telling him to rest. He thinks he might, but then the events slam into him, wrecking any hope for sleep. Pushing Tony away, he struggles to move toward the ladder and get to the cockpit. Bruce hangs back just outside their makeshift medical bay, watching him.

“What are you doing?” Tony says. 

“I have to talk to Natasha,” Steve says.

“You have to do nothing but rest,” Tony replies.

When Steve ignores him and steps toward the narrow passageway to the ladder, it is Bruce who stops him. “Steve, you’re not invincible. You lost a lot of blood, you still have dangerous shrapnel inside, trapped in places I don’t dare to dig out. Give yourself a break.”

Steve hangs onto the bulkhead, leaning his forehead against his bicep. “I don’t have time for a break.” He looks at Tony, who seems more lost, more at loose ends than he’s ever seen him. “We don’t have time for a break. I have to discuss what we’re going to do with Natasha.”

Bruce sighs and says, “Go, lie down on the bed, I’ll bring her down. She doesn’t need to be at the helm right now. We made the jump and we’re coasting in. Is that good enough to get you to go back to bed?”

“Please, Steve,” Tony chimes in.

He considers them and says, “Okay.”

“Let me check on Bucky and then I’ll get Natasha,” Bruce says. 

Before Bruce disappears into the tiny nook where Bucky rests, Steve says, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Once we get to the Rendezvous point and get some proper medical treatment, I would think so,” Bruce says. “Right now, I just need to keep him comfortable.”

“He went a little nutso in there-.”

“Tony,” Steve hisses, but then the world decides to loop and spin around him and he clutches the wall to steady himself.

“Whoa,” Tony says and comes to his aid. “Come on, darling.” 

This time he doesn’t respond, doesn’t contest the decision to put him in the bed. As he lies down, he shudders and Tony tucks a blanket around his shoulders. 

He smiles at Tony but it hurts too much and he says, “We don’t have time for this.”

“We have time.”

“No, we don’t.” 

Tony sidles up onto the bed, and runs fingers through Steve’s hair. “Now that you know, what do you think?”

“Know that you plan on bringing a war directly to the Main Chamber with some gizmo suit you can’t even have with you?” Steve says and he blinks away the growing exhaustion. 

“I got that covered, too,” Tony says and his words are soft, tender, and said with the beauty of kindness. “You know I do.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured,” Steve says, but he can’t make himself smile. Tony will be in danger either way. 

“How did you ever expect me to figure it out without all the information, Tony?” he says as if to prompt Tony to finish the story, to reveal what else he might be hiding, because Steve is sure there’s more. There has to be more than a suit.

Tony only shakes his head. “Later.”

He lies there in silence as Tony brushes his fingers through his hair, caresses his hand down the uninjured side of his face, and lingers with his hand cupping against Steve’s neck, his thumb rubbing along his jaw. 

“How are you holding up?” Tony whispers.

Steve thinks of Bucky, broken and bruised, he thinks of the Chromes and all the people who must have suffered and died. He realizes it is just the beginning and he wonders if he’s ready for the horrors of war again.

“I don’t know.” For the first time, he speaks not only the truth, but the heart of the truth.

“That’s a start,” Tony says as if he’s read Steve’s mind.

Before he’s able to reply, Natasha walks into the small medical bay. Her stance and attitude are ice cold. She’s prepared for anything, but at the same time she’s closed down. She exudes the deadly assassin he knows she can be. 

Bruce takes up residence in the corner, folding his hands, head bowed as if he already knows what’s coming.

He jumps right to it, because he doesn’t have a lot of time. He’s fading – fast. “When we get to the Rendezvous point, when we land, everyone will have to make a decision.”

“Decision?” 

“I’m not going to go into details, and I don’t expect anyone to follow us.” Steve adjusts in the bed so he can sit up. Tony helps him, but keeps his hand clasped in Steve’s. “When we arrive at the Inner Belts, I’m planning on upholding my oath as a part of the Honor Guard.”

“I’m not sure what that means,” Natasha says and crosses her arms.

“Sure you do,” Tony says and his voice is curt, cutting and sharp.

She glares at him. He knows more that he pretends to, Steve decides. He moves past their little game of cat and mouse and says, “As part of the Honor Guard, I vowed to protect people. I’ve been remiss in my duties. I’ve pretended for too long that it doesn’t bother me what’s happening, what has happened over the years since I was found.”

“But what does that mean, Steve?” Bruce says and stands up straight.

“I’m planning on stopping what’s happening. I’m planning on ending it.”

“That’s suicide,” Natasha says.

Steve smiles. “Look, I can’t ask you to do this. You’re probably right, it probably is a suicide mission. But the way I see it, is that I’m tired of living a non-life. Even with our debts paid off what would we do? How could we do anything knowing people are out there suffering? I know I can’t. So, I’m not asking you to come, I’m not asking you to risk anything. All I’m saying is that you’re welcome to come along if you want.”

“If we want?” Natasha says and looks away as if she’s listening for Bucky in the outer room. “The damn fool is going to follow you anywhere, I don’t see how it leaves me much of a choice.”

Steve bows his head and laughs but it’s tinged with sadness. “Bucky always was a sucker for a lost cause.”

“You’re the cause of that,” Natasha replies, she stops and exhales audibly. “Well, we might as well go out in flames.”

“That’s not exactly the plan,” Tony says.

“I don’t think a lot of this was your plan.” Steve slumps back on the pillow. His brain throbs and his eyes feel dry. Before the pain and exhaustion tug him into the under tow, he says, “When we get to the Rendezvous point, we’ll map it all out. Figure out what needs to be done. We’ll have to push the time table forward, since we won’t be able to make an appearance anywhere else. We’ll need to go to the Inner Belts from here.”

“Why’s that?” Bruce asks.

“Simple,” Steve says. “I’m fairly certain when SHIELD and the Feds find out what happened at the Chromes, when they sort it out, they’ll realize I was responsible for bringing Loki and Thor on board.”

“Fuck,” Tony says.

“I’m gonna be a wanted man,” Steve says.

“I didn’t count on that,” Tony says and shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll use it to our advantage,” Steve says and finally the fatigue wraps around him like a cloak. He surrenders to it. “Later, we’ll talk strategy. I just want you both to know, neither one of you need to do this.”

Bruce and Natasha remain frozen in their spots, determined. With a silent vow, they offer their support.

“Okay, then,” Steve says. “This is how it ends.”


	17. Chapter 17

The first time Steve set foot on the Rendezvous point, he thought it might be something reverent, special, but in fact it only felt like a skewer straight to the chest. Walking down the ramp, he’d surveyed the landscape, noted the blackened broken, and shattered cities, seen the last vestiges of a world determined to make its mark on the cosmos but also crippled by that same notion. This, the Rendezvous point, the destroyed and lonely Earth, had been a grave and disappointing moment in his renewed life. 

As Tony helps him down the ramp way now, it feels, instead, like a welcome home. Behind him, he hears Bruce and Natasha struggle with the makeshift stretcher carrying Bucky. The last few days had been a nightmare of ghoulish abrading of Bucky’s wounds as he screamed and clawed at the cot. In order to keep him still, Tony had ‘suited up’ as he put it and held Bucky down while Bruce cleaned the infected wounds on his chest and eating away at the transition point between metal and flesh. Unable to assist due to the shrapnel still slashing its way through his torso, Steve laid on his bed and listened to the horror until finally he stumbled into the nook, pushed Tony aside, and held onto Bucky’s hand. The feral look in Bucky’s eyes as if he was a wild wounded animal only served to remind Steve of the moments between them when Bucky had been the Winter Soldier and Steve had been his former self – Captain America – trying to take down a menace to the Human Space. To this day, he still doesn’t know who commanded Bucky, he only knows the nightmares haunt Bucky.

Bruce rolls out the stretcher and Natasha follows, her hand placed on Bucky’s shoulder. He doesn’t question it, he only looks forward to the wreckage of what once was. When he surveys the bleak and dusty gray landscape with the crumbling buildings his heart chokes a beat in his throat. It looks abandoned. They’ve traveled all this way for naught. Tony adjusts his hold on Steve as they search around for any sign of life.

“I’m kind of hoping this is just a joke, Cap, because I’m not seeing so much as a tumbleweed.”

Steve frowns at him. “He’ll be here. It takes a while.”

“You have more faith than I do.” Tony squints as the wreckage of the city before them. 

“I know him.”

“From where?”

“He helped me through a rough spot, let’s just put it that way,” Steve says and the ache in his back intensifies. Each day the ache is new as the shrapnel slices and dices inside of him, only to have the serum heal. It starts anew, like a hideous vicious cycle. He hisses and Tony rubs light circles at the small of his waist. 

“Do you need to sit?” Tony says, he peers at him with concern. Tony had stayed close all the hours and days the Commando drifted inward toward the Rendezvous point. Even when Natasha noted that there hadn’t been much in the way of comm chatter, decreasing everyone’s hopes for a reunion with the lost cargo haulers from the Chromes. Tony remained by Steve’s side.

Steve only shakes his head to Tony’s offer for a reprieve as he scans over the rusted metal peaks and valleys of the once grand city. Before them looks like an artist’s rendition of the apocalypse. He has to admit, it isn’t far from the truth with its jagged scaffolds of red rusted steel, shattered glass, and cracked and twisted frames of buildings. This is all that is left of their home world. It is more than a shame, it is a sin. 

He catches sight of it and points. “There.”

Both Tony and Bruce shift their gaze toward the speck growing in the distant overcast skies. The long sweep and then arc downward demonstrates a bit of a flare for the dramatic. Steve smiles and inches forward, dragging Tony along. 

“Slow down there,” Tony says. “You’ll pull something or cause something to – you know – pierce a lung or something.”

“No worries,” Steve says and points to the approaching figure. “The cavalry has arrived.”

“I’m not sure I would call that the cavalry, more like a gigantic flying gnat or something.” Tony focuses up into the glare of the steel gray sky. For some reason, Steve realizes Tony is threatened by people from Steve’s past.

The figure comes into focus and Steve smiles. With a final loop around, the man with the mechanical wings lands and steps a few paces to stop his momentum. “Thought it would be you, old man.”

Steve smiles and offers his hand to his friend. “Sam.”

“Captain,” Sam says and leans in for a half hug as his wings retract. 

“Impressive but not nearly as elegant as I could design,” Tony says. “Stark, Tony Stark.” 

Sam takes the proffered hand and shakes it. “Yeah, I know you, man. I’d have to be living in a hole to not know you. Even out here in the Edges, we know you.”

“Edges?” Tony says.

“Well, we ain’t exactly anywhere that’s got a name these days,” Sam states. “No one wants to remember Earth anymore.”

“We?” Tony says and Steve shakes his head.

“You really did swallow all that propaganda stuff they fed you in the Inner Belts, didn’t you?” Sam says but looks Steve up and down and whistles with a discouraging expression. Even Steve knows that he’s not in his prime. While he only has minor physical evidence of his bruises, his body is weakened, and what he could consume in calories has been used by the serum to heal. He’s lost weight, he knows that. “What the hell have you been up to?”

“More than I want to admit,” Steve says but Bruce interrupts.

“I’d like to get Bucky somewhere more comfortable.”

Sam peers over at the stretcher, considers Natasha for a moment, and nods. “Look I got some peeps that’ll come out and help. Just let me set it up, okay?”

“I’d like to make sure he didn’t have to walk the entire way,” Tony says. “He’s more seriously injured than those faded bruises are letting on.” 

Sam has yet to call them on the fact that Steve hangs onto Tony for support. “Sure, some of the other haulers landed just about an hour ago,” Sam says.

“Other haulers?” Natasha asks. “How many, didn’t hear much comm chatter.”  
“Yeah, well, seems everyone must be a little more cautious, considering. Anyhow, I’ll give my guy a holler, get them to come over. Or better yet-.” He digs out a comm link and stuffs it into his ear. Putting his index finger up to stall them, Sam addresses the line. “Hey, you there, man?”

He waits and rolls his eyes as he watches Steve. “You look rough man.”

“I feel rough,” Steve says.

“You need to sit down?” Tony asks again but just then Sam starts to respond over the link.

“Yeah, can you bring the rigs over? We got two wounded for the base camp. Call out the med team, too.” He pauses and grimaces. “Sure, sure, like every time. I owe you.” Sighing, he taps the link and turns back to them. “They’re coming, should be here outside of thirty minutes or so.”

“Well, while we wait,” Steve points to Tony but the man interrupts him.

“While we wait, you’ll sit down.” Tony leads him over to the edge of what looks like a crumbling retaining wall to a large dry basin. He sits him down. “You really do look rough, how you holding up?”

Steve only waves him off, and waits for the sickening nausea from deep within his gut to ease. The one side of his abdomen is tender to the touch and an angry red. Bruce thinks it is internal bleeding. Steve doesn’t think he’s wrong, every time he stretches he feels little tears, and it’s getting worse. The longer the metal bits stay embedded, the more internal damage that keeps trying to repair itself.

Bruce comes over and hands him a bottle. He takes it without a word and downs some of the water, willing himself not to vomit it back up. Tony steps a few paces away, checking out the landscape of the foreign world which shouldn’t be alien to any of them.

“We’re in a heap of it, aren’t we?” Steve says and peers up at Bruce.

“Been in worse,” Bruce replies. Hands on hips, he keeps his eyes steady on the horizon, but Steve knows he’s testing, checking out his people. Bruce always watches over them.

“Oh yeah, when?”

Bruce only gives him that sardonic smile that epitomes him. 

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe,” Bruce says. “First we have to get better then we’ll take on the world.”

“Worlds,” Steve corrects and swigs down some more water as he watches a convoy of trucks trundle up the dry dirt bed road. “Seems my ride is here.”

“Take it easy, we can keep things running for you for a while, you know.” 

“You just make sure he makes it,” Steve points over to Bucky with the half empty bottle of water as Tony joins them again.

“Come on Prince Charming your chariot awaits.”

Bruce leaves to help with the stretcher and Tony slips a shoulder under Steve’s arm. As they approach the side of the roadway, a cloud of dust picks up and he coughs. It hurts where it shouldn’t and he wonders if the pieces have shifted again as his body tries to rid him of the foreign materials. 

He wipes his mouth to find his hand come away with blood. “Damn it,” he murmurs.

“Steve?” Tony glances at him and he sees Tony’s expression. Steve’s eyes are far away one moment, and then he’s tumbling to the ground as he hears yells and calls for help. Somehow they jostle him into the bed of a truck. The hard metal of the bed against his back offers no comfort and he curls around his abdomen as the piercing pokers inside send waves of agony through him. Tony pets at his head and he hears others ordering the trucks to move. He vaguely calls out for Bucky, and Tony shushes him, tells him it’s all right. By the time the truck trundle over the road way, he fades as he pushes his cheek into Tony’s cradling hand. 

He doesn’t wake up again until they’re prepping him for surgery. Tony’s a scramble of words and motion as Natasha explains to the medical crew his special needs as far as sedation during an operation is concerned. The next thing he realizes is that Tony has entered the small operating room which doesn’t look at all sterile. He frowns, Tony’s wearing his strange suit of armor again, and volunteering to hold Steve down as they work on him.

A staff gathers around him and he realizes they strapped him down to a metal table. His vision remains hazy as he glances around the room, the tiles are cracked and stained. He tries not to think about the stench of infection and rot. The doctors begin and all Steve wants to do is scream, yet the pain as they cut into him and start to grope about his insides, yanking out parts of him, and pushing other parts around sends him into another realm of hell. 

Tony talks to him the entire time as does Natasha, they take turns, and he’s flat on his stomach as the medical team – if that’s what they are- continue to manipulate his organs. The nausea increases as the pain overtakes him. He can’t stop it and he apologizes as he vomits several times due to the pain. The doctors stop as he does, and Natasha holds a bowl for him. Sam appears at one point and wipes away the sweat and places a chilled cloth on the back of his neck. It feels like a dream interlaced with a nightmare. At some point, he drifts and he hears Tony whisper _Thank God_ before the darkness totally consumes him.

It takes several tries to actually wake up fully, at some point he finds Sam sitting next to him, book in hand. When Sam sees him, he smiles.

“Hey,” Sam says.

“Hey.” Steve wants to think of a witty reply but his brain is still fogged out on the lingering pain and the memories of the surgery. 

“You’re making the Rag-nets, just in case you want to know.”

“Thought I would,” Steve says and sighs. It was only a matter of time. “How bad.”

“Atrocious.” Sam waits for a moment, and then asks, “I’m assuming you have a plan?”

He lifts a tired hand and says, “Man with a plan.”

“Good.” He stares out into the middle distance and then back at Steve. “You know I got your back, right?”

“Yeah, Sam, I do.” Sam has always been good. He helped him long ago to hunt Bucky down, clean him of the brainwashing. Sam’s not only reliable, he’s a good friend.

Sam turns to face him, he’s eyes serious and shaded. “Then drop this Courtesan and get out of Dodge.”

Steve winces and shakes his head, feigning that he has no idea what Sam is talking about now.

“Don’t give me that, I got part of the lowdown from Nat and the other from just watching that Stark fella hover around you, cursing up a storm. Drop him and get out, Cap.”

Steve frowns and moves in the bed. It really isn’t a bed, but more like a couch. The room is shadowed but Steve can make out the trappings of a safe house, a place to bed down, emergency supplies like the flashlights, the canned foods, the weapons housed in the little cranny near the door. He assumes the door is guarded. 

After the whole adventure to find Bucky, Sam left Steve on yet another humanitarian mission. The main has virtue in the hollows of his bones. He left and ended up on Earth with a colony of indigents and the lost, trying to save the scattered remains of life on a dying (or dead) planet. Sam had been one of the lucky ones, his service in the military had paid off what little debt he had. 

Sam had agreed to housing the Rendezvous point for all the cargo haulers during a brief uprising a few years back. Sam has been working to stabilize the colony’s self-sufficiency since then since not a lot of freighters or haulers happen out this way. He wonders at their current location though.

“We’re not at the landing port,” Steve says instead of addressing Sam’s concerns.

“No, we moved you all a few hours ago, after they finished up Bucky’s surgery and he was stable enough to move.”

“How is he?”

“Pumped full of drugs, but it looks like they got the infection under control.” 

Steve feels the tightness in his chest release, he takes his first deep breath in days. 

“You wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” Sam says and his glares at Steve. Sam has always been a great friend; when they first met the hero worship was a little much, but it was due to Sam that Steve finally turned Bucky around. After that, their friendship turned, matured and now Sam doesn’t take any of Steve’s bullshit – which is good and bad.

He lies his head back in the cushions of the ratty couch. “I wish I knew. I have to talk with Tony to really find out.”

“Well, then talk,” Tony ambles in. He’s in a black t-shirt and low slung jeans. His hair is a mess and his arms have little scabs up and down the insides, like someone has been poking him repeatedly to skewer the flesh.

“You cool with this?” Sam says and stands up from the chair placed next to the couch. 

Steve waves at him, and sits up much to the chagrin of both of them. He swings his legs over the couch, feels the slight pull of internal organs healing.

“You can feel your legs?” Tony says.

Steve rubs at his eyes and sighs. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, at one point you couldn’t, but you were pretty delirious at the time with the pain.” Tony pulls the chair Sam had been sitting in and flips it around so that he straddles it with his arms folded over the back.

Steve grips his legs and can feel it, so he’s assured whatever Tony’s referring to, he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. “Serum,” he says almost rote.

“Yeah, yeah, we all heard that one before, Cap, you wanna tell us how you think the serum is going to get you out of what the Rags are saying?” Sam asks.

He’s hungry and still achy but he has to confront the repercussions of what happened at the Chromes. “Tell me what’s going on, and how long it’s been?”

“Since the Chromes?” Tony says and looks over to Sam.

“We all heard about it, two – three days after it happened. So, in all, about ten, eleven days, give or take. You were out here about a day.” Sam leans against the wall near the weapons stash.

“What are the Rags saying?” He wants to climb to his feet but he needs to give it a few minutes more.

“Just about what you thought,” Tony says. “From the data gathered, it looks like the whole thing was destroyed. They had Chromes data streams from prior to the race, so the Rags pinned Thor on you and the Howling Commando.”

“Thought they would, sort of hard to hide that kind of thing,” Steve says and cringes – not against the physical but more about the long term impact of what happened.

“Also pinning some of the guilt on Carol’s crew, because Thor was hanging out with Jane so much – oh and they’re here, they survived,” Tony says.

Steve lowers his eyes and lets out a breath, sometimes small favors are all that are offered. He knows from his childhood that beggars can’t be choosers. He peers up at Tony and sees a slight smile on his worn face.

“That’s good, Pepper?”

“Yep, she’s good, Carol got her out. There’s Coulson’s crew too. Took a few hits, not sure what happened overall there, but they’re here. Skye was bumped around,” Tony says. “But she’ll be good, the med team was able to patch her up.”

“Any others?” Steve looks up to Sam.

“Quite a few,” Sam says. “You should know the Main Chamber has a warrant out for your arrest, treason.”

“I suspected that,” Steve says and decides it’s as good a time as any to get moving. He stands up, his legs feel strong underneath him, his back muscles knitted together again. No obvious pain or agony stabbing through him. 

“Whoa, now, big fella we don’t know if the doctors got all the shards,” Tony says and follows him to his feet.

“I’m good, believe me when I tell you that,” Steve says. “Besides, we got some plans to make.”

“Before you make these plans, I think we should get something out in the open,” Sam says and crosses his arms. “I want to know how Stark’s been playing you, because the Captain I know doesn’t get played.”

Tony glowers at Sam but doesn’t comment. Steve rolls his eyes and moves to the door. “He isn’t playing me, Sam. Believe me when I say this to you that Tony only opened my eyes, woke me up from the deep freeze I’d been in since the Feds woke me up.”

Steve marches down the long hallway with its flickering lights and smell of dank water. Sam trails behind him muttering about not believing a damn word he says while Tony stays mute and continues to follow as well. Steve can’t believe he’s seen the day when Sam questions him and Tony’s mum. Maybe it is the end of the world.

He weaves through the tunnels of the underground hide-out. He’s been here, before, a long time ago, back when he fought the first Space War. These are the bunkers fashioned out of the long ago subway stations and rail lines. Not much is left of them, since the Elite class along with the Middles abandoned Earth before the wars broke out. This is where the cargo haulers hide out when there’s something brewing between the different Corps, and the decision is made to lay low for a while to see how it all pans out.

He finds his way through the tunnels to the main station, where a group of haulers are gathered. Bare bulbs hang from the ceiling provide adequate but not great lighting. Scattered about the room are chairs of different vintage and a few tables. Pinned to the walls are old fashioned maps of a life that no longer exists on Earth or anywhere else. He surveys the room, but doesn’t see Bucky. Turning, Steve asks, “Bucky?”

“Still resting,” Bruce says as he joins them. “He’s worn out from the infection. While he may have some of your super strength from Zola’s experiments, he’s still pretty much like the rest of us, you know.”

“I’m working on a new arm for him – if you wanted to know,” Tony says and he seems snappish, almost petty. 

Steve raises a brow but several of the other haulers meet him and the greetings begin. He doesn’t get a chance to talk with Tony alone. Not immediately. He wants to talk to him, but more than that he wants to hold him and touch him. He wants to tell him it will be okay, and that they will be fine. But he can’t find the space.

Carol wakes over to him and there’s a crowd of about twenty-five with her. Carol’s and Coulson’s crew weren’t the only ones to get out of the Chromes and head here. At least, this is good news.

“What’s the orders, Cap?” Carol says, hands on hips, single eyebrow raised.

“Carol?”

“Seems like you must know something we don’t, or the Rags are saying it,” Carol says. “We need to know and we want to find out how to back you up.”

“Well,” he says as he finds Natasha off to the side of the crowd. She lifts her chin and then nods at him as if clearing him to reveal what he needs to say. “Well, we’re changing things around here.”

“And the Chromes, was that the start of it?” Melinda May says.

“No, the Chromes happens to be an act of war on the Human Space perpetrated by my brother and his vicious allies, the Chituari,” Thor says and then looks at Steve. “Forgive me, Steven, I do not mean to interrupt you, but it is essential every soul here knows the real cause for the destruction of so many lives.”

“Is that true?” Coulson says. He looks worse for wear, like the entire burden of what’s been happening is on his shoulders. “Are we under attack?”

“It’s true. And we’re making the assumption that Loki called the Chitauri to him and that it caused the destruction of the Chromes and the loss of many lives. He also kidnapped good men to help him in his quest,” Steve says. His clenches his jaw and then releases it, trying to let the stress flow out. Tony’s hand is on his shoulder, holding him, grounding him. “We don’t know what his next move is, we can assume it will involve Asgard and the Nine Realms. Please remember that the Nine Realms includes Midgard and Earth which encompasses all of human space.”

“So, what does this mean for all of us?” A call from the back.

“I’m not sure,” Steve says, studying their faces. “This is an opportunity for us, though. I think it’s time though that we take control of our own destinies, that we stop letting the Main Chamber dictate freedoms and our lives through debtors’ fees.”

The faces around him wait for more and he says, “I think I’d like to discuss our strategy at length with some of the Captains. Once we get a handle on what we are dealing with, both inside and outside threats, we’ll decide as a group what will be next.”

Glancing over at Sam, Steve waits for a signal and is given one. He shuffles off to a side room with a handful of people including Carol, Coulson, Sam, Tony, Natasha, and one other captain he’s never met.

He offers his hand and says, “Captain Rogers.”

“Quill.”

Steve nods and turns back to the small group. “None of you have to entertain what I’m going to say. We have outside and inside forces that are coming to ahead and we have a choice either to stand on the sidelines and let it happen, or add our muscle to the fray and become relevant.”

Carol crosses her arms and says, “Relevant?”

“For a long time now, too long, I’ve been hauling cargo across Human Space, minding my own business, keeping my head down, working off my debt – a debt that I could never pay off in ten life times-, along with my crew. You’ve all been doing something similar as well.”

Coulson nods and they wait for Steve to continue.

“Years ago, too many to count, I fought a war to stop exactly what’s happening today. The Main Chamber and the Corps control lives and freedoms. People are born into debt, and I’m just saying it isn’t right, it shouldn’t be acceptable to any of us. For the Corps to control water, food, commodities is one thing, for them to control our freedoms – that is unacceptable. They say slavery is against the law but it isn’t. Even if they upheld their own laws and abolished the slave trade they still have indentured servitude. We are all slaves to the Elite class.

“I made a vow, ages ago, to the Honor Guard and that was to uphold the rights and freedoms of the individual and to protect those who could not and cannot protect themselves. I’ve been remiss in my duties, and maybe it took a little bit of knocking about to remember what it means to care, I intend to change things. I can do it, and probably fail miserably without you, or we could do this together.”

At some point Thor must have joined them because his voice booms from the back. “And what of my brother and his alien horde, how shall you deal with that and your lofty ambitions, good Captain?”

Steve looks down, clears his head, and then focus back at the crowd. “I’ll grant you that having to deal with Loki could make things more complicated, but what I’m planning to do could actually use that to our advantage.”

“And what’s that?” Carol asks.

“With Loki and the Chitauri as a distraction, I plan on using Tony’s way into the Main Chamber and-.”

“That’s a little bit of suicide,” Quill says but it’s almost in an appreciative tone, almost.

“A bit, but it could play out very well. With a way into the Main Chamber, and more importantly access to Ultron, we can bring this all to a head and bring down every single one of them.

“Over the course of the time I’ve been awake, I’ve seen what it means today, in this world to be free. Freedom only comes with money, only comes with class. I fought against the class system, I fought for everyone to have a chance. I went down for an ideal. That ideal, that Corps do not rule, but the people do is still alive today.”

There’s an instant ruffling of nerves through the meeting when he mentions Ultron and Coulson notes, “That is treason what you’re saying, Captain. We could all get killed for it.”

“I can’t ask you to follow me. But the price of freedom is high, and it’s a price I’m willing to pay,” Steve says and, for the first time since he woke from his stasis, he feels as if he’s earned the title of Captain. “We shouldn’t be slaves to Corporate gluttony. We shouldn’t be judged by our monetary worth, we should only be judge by our actions to one another. That is what makes the mettle of a man or a woman, that is what makes our worth.”

As he scans the faces, he sees many nodding, some a little horrified, but then he lands on Tony. Tony has his head slightly bowed, a small smile on his lips, and, when he meets Steve’s gaze, there’s pride in his eyes.

“What do we do, Captain?” Coulson says and Carol stands by his side.

“Tony has a way into the Main Chamber, with that we can ferret out Ultron. What we need,” Steve considers them and then begins again, “What we need is as much intelligence on the Main Chamber, the players, everything, before we start this. We need battle stations ready.” He points to Thor. “We also need a very clear view of what your brother will do. We need to use his plans for a distraction.”

“I may be of assistance there,” Thor says. “I do know that my brother cannot resist power, he is as many would say an insect to the flame.”

“Then we have to get word out to him that there’s an opportunity to do a jab into the heart of Human Space,” Steve says.

“That’s a little risky, we could be sitting under Chitauri rule,” Carol notes.

“Could, but I doubt it. I’m asking Thor to partner up with us to coax Loki into what we need him to do.”

“Which is?” Carol folds her arms and raises a brow.

“Distract the Main Chamber enough that we can hit them and hit them hard.”

“How?” Quill asks from the back of the cramped room.

Tony chimes in at that moment. “I’ve got that covered.”

“What? With your ass?” Quill says.

“No, although it is magnificent, no.” 

“Tony,” Steve says.

“Just you? Just you? How’s this gonna help us?” Quill glances around the room. “I want a little more detail if I’m putting my ass and my crew on the line here.”

“He isn’t wrong, we’re going to need an army to go after the Main Chamber with their Doom-bots,” Carol says. 

“We got one,” Tony says and Steve studies him; he trusts him implicitly but they haven’t had time to flesh out the details of what’s happening. Right now he has to believe him.

“Okay, say we believe you. How’s an army gonna help us in the Main Chamber.” Quill crosses his arms and waits.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve says and exhales. He hates to do this, but he has to. If they’re going in, they have to go all in. “Army or no, distraction or no. It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?” Carol says.

“Because,” Steve peers around the room and finds Bruce hidden in the dark corner. With a slight lift of his chin he agrees to Steve’s unspoken request. “Because we have a Hulk.”


	18. Chapter 18

“You’re gonna get us all killed, you know that,” Bucky says and throws down his fork. He looks worlds better, and angrier than a thousand suns going supernova. He sits, half reclined in a bunk notched into a small alcove of the colony’s infirmary. Although most of it looks fairly primitive, Steve learned that the care is excellent and well educated. Some of the people in the colony ran from the establishment years ago, even though they were part of the Elite class. It still surprises Steve that there are good people – and this fact angers him. He shouldn’t be surprised, it should be expected.

“You always have something to prove,” Bucky says and the stump of his metal arm hisses as the gears grind.

“You don’t have to come,” Steve says and leans down to pick up the fork. He places it on the tray next to the plate of greens and the bowl of soup. These people don’t have much; it isn’t like Earth is a viable place to grow food and raise livestock. Most of what they have is shipped in on charity runs. His heart pangs a bit as he thinks of the runs he’ll miss now, leaving the people who depend on him out in the cold.

Bucky glares at him. “This is all Stark’s doing. You know, we could get our debt paid off and be free of this crap. Why are you doing this?” His stare bores into Steve, reminds him of a time when Bucky had been more of a killer than a friend. 

“You don’t have to come.” Steve says again and stands up. They’re in a small recessed part of the underground settlement that houses the infirmary. There isn’t much privacy to be had in this place, but since Bucky had been injured he’s afforded the luxury of his own space. Only a curtain separates them from the larger medical area, though.

“Sure I have to come, who is going to save your ass from yourself. Better yet, who is going to save your ass from Stark,” Bucky says and then shakes his head. His hair messes into his face and he doesn’t bother pushing it back. Even in the enclosed tight space, he looks small, injured, as if the entire universe has abused him. 

Guilt has forever been a part of their relationship. When Steve had been ill and Bucky used all of his limited resources to help pay medical bills after Steve’s mother died, it ate at him to watch his friend give so much up. Later when Hydra captured Bucky that first time and experimented on him, Steve even felt guilt over that, because he’d been too small, too weak to be allowed in the Guard. 

But he did this for Bucky, this time. “As I recall, Buck, you’re the one who wanted to take this commission.” Steve clasps his hands behind his back as if he’s in parade rest.

“Right, right, I wanted to take a commission so I could be part of a damned mission to take down the Corps. Yeah, yeah, I always wanted to be part of a revolution. Right, I kind of remember that – wait, no I don’t.” Bucky says and shoves the bowl of soup away, nearly upsetting it. 

Steve gently moves it back in place, picks up the spoon that lies next to the fork and offers it to Bucky. “Eat.”

“No.”

“Stop being a punk and eat. You lost a lot of weight -.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Bucky hisses. “Do you even know what the hell you’re up to Steve? Seriously, crap. A metal suit of armor, a guy who thinks he’s a god with a freaking hammer, and another guy with a serious anger issue. I mean, what the hell are you thinking?”

Steve turns around in the confined space, feeling more than trapped. “It is what it is, Buck. You can’t ask me to continue to haul around scrap in my little red wagon anymore. I need to do something. I’ve been sitting on my hands for too long.” 

“Why?” Bucky’s earnest expression stabs into Steve’s chest. “Why does it always have to be you? It isn’t your burden anymore.”

“If it isn’t mine, tell me whose it is?”

“This is only because Stark has been fucking your brains out,” Bucky curses and moves the stump of his metal arm. He grits his teeth against the agony.

“Bucky,” Steve says but it isn’t unkind. He leans over to straighten the tray. “Just leave it okay. Tony means a lot to me.”

“And you’re fucking giving up your freedom for him.” Bucky grabs Steve’s shirt and yanks on him. “He’s only one guy, there will be others. God, Steve, you’ve really got it bad.”

Steve wrestles his shirt free and tugs it straight. “What would you do if it was Nat?”

“Don’t go there, man,” Bucky glowers and turns his face away from Steve. “Nat and I go back.”

“You can’t just disregard Tony like that. Damn it, Buck, you’re the one who practically shoved this down my throat. I didn’t want to take the commish.”

“No, and for once in your life you were right, you jerk.” Though there’s still vehemence in his voice, Steve recognizes Bucky softening around the edges. 

“Well, you were probably right about Thor and Loki,” Steve says and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Probably? I think that’s an understatement.”

“Possibly,” Steve says and crosses his arms. “If we can’t get Loki to show up when we need him to, then we’re-.”

“Fucked?” Bucky says.

“Watch your month.”

Bucky waves at the tray. “Can you-?”

“You didn’t eat enough,” Steve says even as he picks up the tray. He steps toward the curtain, but turns back to Bucky. “I need you on this one, Bucky.”

“You always need me,” Bucky says but turns serious as he focuses on Steve. “They won’t have any mercy when they catch you, you know. It won’t matter that you’re a war veteran, a living legend. The Main Chamber will turn it in their favor and you’ll end up dead or worse.”

Steve shrugs. “What’s worse than dead?”

Bucky shakes his head and settles down into the bed. He turns toward the wall and murmurs, “You don’t want to know.” 

There’s a rawness to his voice that tells Steve to leave. Over the course of the last days, nightmares plagued Bucky. Steve knows what they are about, though Bucky never confesses them. Swallowing, Steve stands there for another few seconds, before he mutters a good night and departs. He walks through the quiet infirmary which is only a few scattered pieces of equipment salvaged from long ago abandoned hospitals and the few freighters that still frequent Earth. There’s only one person sitting at the station; she looks up at him and smiles.

“He’s doing much better,” the woman says. “I expect the med team to release him tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Steve replies and she gets up to take the tray. “Oh, I can-.”

“Nonsense, Captain Rogers,” she says. She’s an older woman, perhaps approaching seventy. She has her white gray hair pulled up in a loose bun and there are ringlets of curls framing her face, softening the wrinkles to something tender and light. “We’re all counting on you.”

As she takes the tray, he mumbles a thank you, but stops before he leaves. “Nothing changes.”

She considers him, her head tilted. “It does, but only by little bits. Most people think revolutions change everything, but usually it means tiny steps. If the steps are too big, Captain, it usually means it won’t hold.”

“But where does that leave us?” He genuinely would like to know, he needs guidance, too. He doesn’t have all the answers.

“Striving for better?” She disappears beyond another curtain with the tray.

Calling good night, he leaves the makeshift infirmary and heads back toward the main gathering place of the underground settlement. Before he gets there, Tony appears and takes up position by his side.

“I need to talk with you.”

“About?”

“Important things, do I need an excuse?” Tony asks.

Steve stops and sighs. “No, of course not, I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind from almost dying to planning a revolution and all.”

Tony looks exquisite, even without all the trappings of a Courtesan, in his jeans and t-shirt with his hair in disarray, he practically drips sensuality. Steve licks his lips and hitches a breath.

“Come on sailor boy, I have some things to talk with you about,” Tony says and hooks his hand around Steve’s elbow. 

“Technically, I’m not a sailor,” Steve says but allows Tony to haul him off from the main track to a series of smaller tunnels. They climb through a series of crumbling passages before Steve asks, “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Shush.” Tony continues through the nearly dark tunnels, only his arc reactor provides any light.

“I should really get back to the planning-.”

“You should get some sleep and I found the perfect place,” Tony says as he directs Steve to crawl over some fragments of a lost city – bricks and mortar. Then they scramble up a long set of stairs which are miraculously still in one piece without much damage. Finally they arrive at what looks like a street but probably had been a mall or a park at one time. “This way.” Tony references his pad, talking to JARVIS as he does. 

“Tony I really don’t think we should be roaming around out here,” Steve says. “Sam said it is dangerous. Not everyone left on Earth is part of the colony here.”

“This way,” Tony says and he opens up a door to a building. It creaks as he shoves it with his shoulder. He finds his way through the grime and dust covered furniture, the bashed in walls with graffiti written all over the lower level. “Up the stairs.”

They climb three flights and Tony opens up a door to a loft space. It is open and the windows for the most part are still intact. Tony set up a number of oil lamps on a table with two chairs. He sets them to flame with a quick flick of a lighter. In the corner Steve sees a pile of cushions and blankets. Peering over his shoulder, Tony says, “You like?”

As he looks up through the skylights to the dark skies and glimpses the finest stars he’s ever laid eyes on, Steve nods and turns his attention back to Tony. “Yes, it’s very beautiful.”

“Welcome home,” Tony says and points to the table. Spread out over the table Tony has acquired a number of dishes from breads, to dried meats, to some root vegetables. There’s not much to eat on Earth anymore, but Tony would finagle a dinner for him. Tony fishes out a bottle from a canvas bag next to the table.

Steve stares out at the cityscape, what is left of it still glimmers in the moonlight. Polka dots of light from the specks of civilization are scattered throughout the city, illuminating some buildings, while leaving others out in the cold. Sam’s underground colony has amenities like water and electricity, but it is only because Sam maintains a thread of civilization and commerce to keep everything running. He wonders how the city once looked, lit up and powerful. He wonders how a people could hate themselves so much to ruin their own home. Letting out a held breath, he faces Tony, offers him a sad smile and does as beckoned.

Tony settles in the chair next to him. He places a dish with breads, meat, and some oil on the plate. “Eat, you have to keep up your strength.”

Steve agrees and he tears off a hunk of the bread to dip it into the oil. “You need to tell me what you’re planning, Tony. This isn’t going to work if you hide anything from me.”

“I know, no more secrets.”

Somehow, Steve’s relieved to hear that Tony agrees. “Okay, then the suit?”

“Suits,” Tony corrects. He chews on some of the bread and then says, “I have more than one.”

“How many?” 

Tony fingers the scabs on his arms and says, “About a dozen.”

“Who can use them?”

“Mainly me, a little bit of Pepper, but mainly me.” Tony bobs his head a little. “Maybe Rhodey but I’m not one hundred percent on that.”

“Then what good is that?” Steve says. 

“JARVIS can operate them pretty effectively. He’ll do his part.” 

“So, what, you planned on going in there and hoping to shoot a bunch of the Main Chamber Elite?” Steve swallows the dried meat but it feels like a thick knot in his throat. “I think you’re a little insane.”

“Only a little, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” Tony says. “Listen, it’s not simple. I’ll grant you that. I still have to be delivered to the Main Chamber sans suits. That’s fine, they’ll come to me when I call.”

“Oh, like with some magical incantation or something.”

“You know, you can be very sassy when you want to be.” Tony tosses the bread he’s munching on back onto the plate and concentrates on Steve instead. “Listen, either way I was going to do this.”

“No, you weren’t,” Steve says. “You picked my boat for me. You knew exactly what you were doing and it’s time you come clean.” 

Tony slumps back in his chair. The light of the arc reactor glows in the darkening night, throwing shadows and light across the loft. “I’ve implanted in my body a neural network that should call the armor to me. With the neural network, I can also have it go to Pepper, since I’ve programmed it to recognize her genomic code. I’m working on programming it for you, but that’ll take some time.”

“Okay, so this neural network, will the Main Chamber be able to tell you have it,” Steve coughs. “Inside of you?”

“Yes, they should be able to tell, but I have it patterned to look as if it is part of the whole arc reactor deal. It shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” Tony says and shows Steve the scabs on his arms. “I’ve been fooling around with it for days now, in between working on Bucky’s arm.”

“Oh, oh,” Steve replies and suddenly the food falls heavily like a cold ball of lead in his stomach. 

Tony peers at him, trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Take on the guilt? Feel like everything and everyone is your responsibility. Bucky’s can take care of himself,” Tony says.

“I know that, don’t you think I know that?” Steve shoves the food aside and recalls Bucky doing that not an hour ago to him. “I – It’s difficult, different with Bucky. We- we grew up together. You know how it is not to have anyone else around you who grew up with you? Who has a shared life experiences? Bucky is it for me. He’s everything.”

Tony presses his lips together and nods, and Steve realizes what he just said and tries to back track immediately. “No, I don’t mean, _that_. Bucky’s important, part of me, and all, but Tony, you’re important too. Very important.”

“But not everything.”

Is Tony everything? Are Bucky and Tony the same? No – not to him. Bucky is his friend, his family. Tony – he loves Tony, but he’s never told him, not straight out. Tony is not the same as Bucky. Steve needs Tony, like water and air and light on his face at the end of a rough day. He needs Tony to steady him, to hold him, to tell him that there’s a reason to start a war and that he has some relevance in this day and age. 

“You’re more.” It is all he can voice, because words fail him, they fall like shards of glass around him, too sharp to pick up and glue back together again. He doesn’t know how they broke but the words do when he looks at Tony, when he thinks on Tony. 

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Tony says and stands up. 

At first, Steve thinks Tony is walking away, leaving him to his thoughts with sharp edges, and he supposes he deserves it. He just insulted the one he loves. Tony lays his hand on Steve’s shoulder, waits for a moment, and then says, “Are you coming to bed?”

When Steve doesn’t move immediately, Tony squeezes his shoulder and adds, “Come on soldier boy, show me how I’m more.”

After some time, after stumbling, and falling, and holding, and kissing, he spoons up against Tony – flesh upon flesh- within the cradle, the nest of blankets and cushions. There’s a distinct smell to the blankets that reminds him of the outside and dried autumn leaves, but nestled close to Tony, naked and hot, it feels right, it feels good.

He’s achingly hard and taking time to prepare Tony. Tony urges him and bumps against his hip. Tony slides his hand under the pillow and retrieves one of his discs to use for lubrication. Side by side, Steve enters him and hisses out the hot relief of it. He rocks against Tony, taking it easy and slow, allowing the sensation to drift over them both until they are breathing in unison, until he can feel the throb of Tony’s pulse with his own rhythm. He shifts and moves and wants to feel more. Tony begs him, asks him for it. He wants it harder, stronger, like nothing he’s ever felt before. Steve doesn’t know if he’s up to the task, if he’s able to lift Tony off of the surface, away from his own mind and set him free. He’s a Courtesan, and Steve is nothing more than a Captain of a cargo hauler.

He accepts it, yet not as a challenge but as an oath. Tony is his, not anyone else’s. Not Ultron’s or the number of other sponsors he’s had. Tony Stark belongs to him. And he wants to prove it, to show it. He wrestles them to their knees, still shoved deep inside Tony. He takes up a reckless rhythm thrusting hard and true until Tony cries out and hitches his breathing as he pleads with Steve to touch him.

When Steve doesn’t immediately comply, Tony tries to take himself in hand, but Steve slaps his hand away, curling his fingers around his erection, following the harsh stroking until Tony’s sobbing and meeting every thrust of Steve’s hips. 

Tony yells for more, and then bends over to bury his face in the pillows, ass high and presented to Steve. All the while, as he plunges into Tony over and again, one thought pounds through his brain.

_Mine, mine, mine._

And in that moment, he realizes the very difference between Tony and Bucky. While Bucky might mean everything to Steve. Tony resides within the heart of Steve, his counterbalance while Bucky, as a friend, helps define him. Tony is him, a perfect yin to yang. 

He mutters and groans as he works into Tony. Pressing bruises along his hip bones, he loosens his hold on reality and allows himself only to feel, connected, flesh upon flesh, and he cries out as he floods into Tony. His orgasm shakes through him in rapid, terrible waves. He’s not sure what happens to Tony until he feels the warm fluid spill over his hand. He’s paralyzed with his climax and collapses onto the piles of blankets, Tony besides him.

He doesn’t realize tears are streaming down his face until Tony gently kisses them away. “Quiet now, Captain, sleep.”

“Promise me, something?”

“What’s that?” Tony says and he looks wrecked but satiated at the same time.

“Promise me you’re mine.” He knows he shouldn’t ask, it’s something he can’t hope for, but something he desires, needs, dreams.

“Don’t make me lie to you.”

“Lie to me,” Steve says and knows it is pathetic and silly but he wants Tony to be his, he wants Tony to sacrifice everything and run away with him.

“The future owns us, Captain.”

“Lie to me.”

“I’m yours, only yours,” Tony says. “I’m yours, Steve.”

For just these moments Steve believes him.


	19. Chapter 19

Over the course of the next days, Steve’s life is slowly stolen from him. The colony becomes a base of operations and everyone in it, both cargo haulers and original settlers switch from their routine to a more military, engaged awareness. At any moment, there’s a fear of strike. He tries to keep everyone alert but also calms them by trying to decrease their fears. He doesn’t think a strike is coming, not here, not now. He thinks it is this hyper awareness that allows him to go these days without sleep and, it doesn’t escape his notice that Tony forgoes sleep as well.

In the heart of the underground colony, Skye and her cohorts are ensconced monitoring the Rag-nets and Grids. Nothing good is coming from it. Steve stands to the side and listens as a small gathered crowd reviews the data.

“Looks pretty damned nasty, if you ask me,” Sam says. He’s perched on one of the file cabinets near the entrance of the communications room. Skye decked out the place with different computers she and Tony scavenged and spent a day and night connecting and wiring. The place is a mess of wires and screens. It isn’t technologically advanced, probably decades or centuries behind the times, but good enough. Nothing like Tony’s holographic projects and JARVIS, but still a brain of their nascent uprising. 

Skye shakes her head, she has earphones on and her fingers fly over the console. “Cleaning up the signals and trying to stay under the radar isn’t the easiest thing.”

“But you can do it,” Sam says. He hops down from the file cabinet and hunches over her shoulder. “What have you got?”

“Something about Stark, it doesn’t look good.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and joins them. Carol and Melinda stay put in their corners. Both have been monitoring the arrays as well. 

“What are they saying?”

“Well, other than the fact that Stark is linked to a known terrorist – that’s you by the way – he’s also being labeled as unstable.” Skye hits the keys and a new image comes up.

“Stane.”

“Listen to this one,” Skye says and the image begins to move.

“What I’m saying is clear, Stark Corp is not afflitiated with any terrorist organization. Tony Stark has been unstable since his abduction,” Stane says. Sitting at a semi-circular black desk, Stane has his hands folded in his lap, his legs spread out, and he’s lounging back in the chair as if the interrogation by the representatives from the Main Chamber is boring him. 

A voice comes on but no face is shown. “And Stark Corp agreed to a sponsorship with the Main Chamber even though you knew that Courtesan Stark was not stable.”

Stane leans forward and his eyes narrow. His bald head glimmers in the light. “That is not what I am saying. Tony Stark has been abducted again. He wanted to go out and show the masses how the Stark Corp wants to help the under privileged, that is the reason he hired the cargo hauler headed by Captain Rogers in the first place.”

“Tell the lies, Obie, you were always good at it,” Tony says as he enters the room. Steve turns and peers over his shoulder at Tony. Tony only raises his eyebrow.

“This just came in.” Tony lifts his chin to acknowledge the information and sidles up to where Steve is standing, leaning against him. They haven’t tried to hide their relationship at the base at all. 

The image of Stane flickers but continues to answer the interrogator’s questions. “Stark Corp is committed to a progressive Human Space with a strong balance as adjudicated by the Elite class and the Main Chamber. I assure you-.”

“Sir Stane, the Main Chamber’s position is not to question the Stark Corp, but to ask the status of Sir Stark. Does he play a role in this treasonous act by Captain Rogers?” 

“I can assure you, he does not,” Stane says. 

Steve cringes but Tony places a hand on his arm. “He’s going to do us a favor, right now. While he tries to save his ass, he’s actually saving ours.”

The next question is predictable. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because Tony, sorry, Sir Stark is a coward. Don’t get me wrong,” Stane says as he leans into the table, looking at something beyond the feed. “Tony likes the spotlight, he likes to show off, to be the one to look good on the Rag-nets. He likes to look like a big shot, likes to be the center of attention, but in the end, Tony – well, he’s a Courtesan. He is what he is.”

“And what is that?” 

Steve holds his breath as Stane glowers in view of the Rag-net. Stane chuckles low in his throat and shakes his head. “He is what he is, Tony Stark is nothing more than a high paid whore.”

Steve snaps to attention, turning to Tony. Tony stares at the image of Stane, his expression frozen in a blank gaze, but then again as Steve studies him – it isn’t blank, not at all, but fierce and perfect in its defiance.

Tony’s lips turn into a curve of a smile. “Told you, he did exactly what I thought he would do.” He leans forward and disconnects the feed. 

“I was watching that, you know, for quality gossip and intel,” Skye says and assesses Tony with a quick glance up and down.

“You’re not going to find the intel that way,” Tony says and pushes her aside. It isn’t rude but more of a friendly jibe. “Let me give you a few pointers, and a little way into the back door.”

Tony’s fingers fly over the console. He doesn’t even look at what he’s doing as he speaks. “There are special routes that are only available to the Elite class, but – and here’s the interesting thing. When I was ten I used to play around with the interfaces through the nets. I – well, watch this.” The screens shift through a mirage of different images, flowing with data and flickering through a variety of news events including streamed data from the fall of the Chromes. 

Steve grimaces as he watches the screens but Tony doesn’t even seem to recognize what he’s accessed as he continues through his systematic review of the nets. 

“When I was ten I put a pretty rudimentary surveillance bug into the Rag-nets. Luckily it was so basic to me, I didn’t realize how advanced it actually was to the rest of the nets.”

“Wow, don’t you sounds a little proud of yourself,” Skye says, but she’s smiling at Tony as he works.

“Eh, you know, I was ten and no one noticed essentially a virus I implanted in the nets. It’s still working today. It doesn’t have a lot of functionality, but we can use it to get some basic information and to set up some very vital info.”

“What are you thinking, Tony?” Steve asks. 

“Easy, we have to get some information first, like what the Main Chamber is planning on for you. Second, we have to be able to fly our ships in toward the Inner Belts without detection. That’s going to be fairly difficult with known, registered cargo haulers.” Tony taps out a few more codes. “I think I can get us some information, not all that we need, but some of it. I also think we can get a good cover. It might take a while.”

“What do you mean, a good cover?” Sam asks. He shares a glance with Steve and then turns back to Tony. Sam has always had his back, and even now, he’s checking to see if Tony will live up to expectations.

“You’re going to change the identification signals and specifications for each of the haulers on file,” Skye supplies.

“Give the girl a ribbon because she just won first place.”

“So we can approach the Inner Belts,” Steve starts.

“Essentially undetected, Cap,” Tony says. “Visuals might be a problem-.”

“But you’re going to change all the specs, they shouldn’t have the right comparisons to know what ship is coming in,” Skye says.

“True, so we will have the element of surprise. Unless-.”

Steve finishes for Tony. “Unless someone on the ground knows what one of our haulers look like.”

“But we don’t have to worry about that,” Tony says. “Mainly, the cargo hauler most in danger will be the Commando. They’ll look for you there. But like I said, we don’t have to worry about that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam asks as he eyes not Tony but Steve.

“We’re not going in on your ship,” Tony says and winks at Steve.

Steve throws his hands in the air and then scrubs his hand through his hair. “What the hell, Tony, I can’t have you risk that.”

“Risk what?” Sam asks and both Carol and Melinda move forward to listen more closely. 

“A ship, Tony’s going to give us his ship,” Steve says and, with hands on hips, sighs. “No, Tony, that’ll implicate you more so than your current association with me.”

“Eventually, they’re going to figure out that I’m still with you and not in one of the life domes from the Chromes.” 

“It’ll take a few more weeks for them to catch all the life domes and bring them on line,” Sam says with a shrug. “So we do still have some time.”

“Once we’re at the Inner Belts and make the Main Chamber, everything will have to happen fairly quickly,” Steve says. “I’m not sure I like it. But that’s where Loki comes in.”

“If we can get him to strike at the right time,” Tony says. “That a wild card and you know it.”

“We’re laying the ground work now,” Skye says. “Though at this point, it’s pretty vague what I’m putting out there. Until we have a plan, I can’t put the correct info out there for Loki and the Chitauri to take advantage of.”

All eyes are on him and Steve nods. “We’ll get the final plan in the next day, once I have all the particulars.”

“Which are?” Sam asks and then shifts his glance over to Tony. “Oh I get it, we haven’t all learned how to share yet, have we?”

Steve purses his lips; Sam always could read him, he’s just a little surprised at how well Sam picks up on the dynamic of his relationship with Tony. 

When everyone in the small operations base turns to stare at Tony, he holds up his hands as if in surrender and says, “Hey, I share, I share a lot. I’m a Courtesan.”

“I don’t think that this requires that kind of sharing,” Carol snickers and Steve feels the heat on his cheeks. Tony jerks a little and Steve can tell this is going to escalate.

“Let’s get some coffee, Tony,” Steve says and yanks on his arm to pull him away from the console. As they exit, he hears the mutterings of the others, but is confident they will turn back to the matter at hand. Skye will be monitoring the Rag-nets for any more important news developments and that will divert them. 

They fall into step and, together, snake through the underground maze toward the area of the settlement with a long stairwell to street level. Once they climb the old cracked concrete stairs, they end up at district reminds Steve of the Rims and his old home. An open air market with tables pepper area much like an open café and there’s a long bar to the side. While no one actually pays at the colony, they do barter for goods and services, and this is their main locale for commerce. Word has gotten around the place that Steve and his crew, plus some of the others are here and that they are served without any expected payment. Steve’s not sure how he feels about it.

Settling into a booth with ripped cushions which is pushed up against an outside wall of a building, Steve slides in and Tony sits across from him on a mismatched chair. The young son of the operator of the food joint greets them. He’s over eager and slight. He reminds Steve of himself, all those many years ago.

“What can I do for you Captain America?” He gives Steve a toothy grin.

“Rick, just Steve, I told you.”

“Always be Cap to the rest of us,” Rick says and points over his shoulder at a mass of kids in their early teens. 

“Tell you what, Rick, get us some of your best coffee and some sandwiches or whatever your mom’s got cooking on the burners back there, and this is yours,” Tony says and produces a small tablet.

Rick’s eyes nearly pop out of his angular face. “Sir Stark, our food ain’t worth that,”

“Don’t every under estimate yourself, Rick, that’s a sin. Now scoot.” Tony waves him away and Ricks disappears behind the open air tent’s counter to order their food.

Tony lounges back onto the chair and he slings his arm over the back and waits for Steve. 

The expectation pushes him over the edge and Steve says, “We have to talk.”

“Not a surprise,” Tony says and bumps a knee against Steve’s inner thigh. “Tell me you trust me first.”

“I don’t think that’s what we have to talk about.”

“I know you’ve been talking to your old school boy crush.”

“Don’t call Bucky that,” Steve says and he’s angry, angrier than he thinks he should be. But Tony’s never insulted him before and this hits a tender spot, a low and vulnerable area for Steve.

“Tell me you didn’t crush on him back in the day.”

“Who didn’t back then?” Steve says and looks away. He hates that Tony can read him so well, while at times Tony still remains an enigma to Steve. He focuses back on Tony. “Listen, Bucky had it going for him, you know. But I didn’t crush on him, not like you mean, anyway. Bucky, I looked up to Bucky – I wanted to be a little more like him.”

“In what way?”

“He always knew what to say.”

Tony scoffs at the idea of a suave Bucky. 

“He changed, once they had him, you know. He changed due to the brainwashing and stuff. He’s not the same person on some levels.” 

Rick comes back with a tray of coffees and bowls of stew. Steve helps him set up the table and Tony tosses him the pad. Rick bops off to show the group of kids his prize. What they call coffee truly isn’t coffee but more of a carob root drink. It isn’t bad; it isn’t great, but it isn’t bad.

Steve digs in and says, “I don’t appreciate the diversion tactics, Tony. If we’re going to do this, I need to know exactly what your plans are, how this all fits together.” The stew is hardy, if lacking in meat; it has thick root vegetables and a robust broth. 

“Would it surprise you if I said, I don’t know?” Tony says as he plays with his spoon rather than eat. He keeps staring at the spoon like it might offer some clues or ideas about their plan. “I figured it would happen as it happens. My plan of attack is usually to attack, and that’s it.”

Steve sucks around a hot vegetable and says, “How’s that working out for you?”

“Pretty much it sucks, but it works. Listen,” Tony says and hunches over the table. “No one really knows much about Ultron. He’s a myth more than anything, that’s probably why you never really heard much about it. Grown-ups don’t like to tell ghost stories.”

“But you know he’s real?”

“What I’ve had JARVIS find has been scant, but it looks pretty convincing. The thing is-.”

“What?” Steve says as he sees the frown lines crease Tony’s brow.

“The thing is that the myth of Ultron has been around for years, years and years. He’d be an old man by now, very old even with enhancements for advanced age. I’m talking illegal enhancements.”

“So what does that mean?” Steve asks as he tears off a hunk of bread from the loaf Rick delivered.

“It means Ultron’s no normal human,” Tony says. “And I believe he doesn’t want me for my obvious sex appeal.”

“What’s your theory, then?”

“My theory is not a theory really, but more like a work in progress. What if Ultron is some kind of alien or, at least, alien intelligence.”

“Why would an alien go to all that trouble to take over Human Space and then hide in the shadows?”

“Not all villains like to gloat?” Tony sucks in a breath between his teeth and shakes his head. “My whole thought is that in order to take down the Main Chamber we actually have to get close to Ultron that’s one of the reasons I accepted him as a sponsor.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little convenient, though?” Steve says and sips the ‘coffee’. It’s slightly bitter and there’s no sweetener. He learned a long time ago, not to complain, so he just drinks it as is. Tony doesn’t touch his cup. 

Tony knocks the table twice with a knuckle and comments, “Yeah, yeah it is, it is convenient. Here I was all hot and bothered by everything, wanting to change the way the world ticked after my abduction, making it pretty well known I wasn’t going to make weapons or shit for anyone anymore.”

“Broadcasting that you want to do what’s right.”

“More or less,” Tony says and considers him. “And then Ultron comes along and offers me the perfect deal, the perfect way to walk in the door, and get close enough to the Main Chamber to take it down.”

“Convenient isn’t the word for it,” Steve says and finishes the last of his stew.

“Planned,” Tony says and whistles. “Yes.”

Steve waits as he observes the gears in Tony’s head adjusting to the newest conclusions. 

“Stane, probably I’m not sure. I don’t know. It might not be a set up, I just don’t have enough facts,” Tony hisses. “But, it wouldn’t be the first time the man’s tried something under handed. Let’s move on then, shall we?”

“We’ll have to watch out for Stane, he might make a move” Steve says.

Tony tilts his head and says, “No, he’s a coward and a fool. He’ll save his own ass. That’s the only thing you can count on with Obie, to save his own fat ass.”

“How’d you get Stane to let you commission my ship?” Steve asks.

“Easy peasy, the guy is a real piece of work. What he said is as good as the truth, told him I wanted to do the charity route for the company, you know, work the Rag-nets and the Grids to get a good word in for Stark Corp with the masses. Plus it would look good to tag along with a known and much loved war hero.” Tony shrugs. “He thought I was finally falling in line with the company. Shithead never gave me credit for my brain.”

“So, I was just part of your plan, just part of the grand scheme,” Steve says, and it is a cold lump in his belly.

Tony reaches across the table and grasps Steve’s hand. “Never just like that. You know that.”

“But in the beginning?”

“In the beginning, you were part of my plan. I needed back up, I needed someone to do the heavy lifting, to help me plan the invasion and take down of the Main Chamber.”

Steve sits back, measures Tony with an evaluative gaze and says, “So, here we are.”

“Yes, here we are, and my plan is shot to hell because I can’t get you or the Commando close enough to the Inner Belts.”

“I thought you could change the signature, play around with the registry.”

“To a degree, I can, but I can guarantee since you’re a wanted criminal now, they will have technicians and deck officers that will be able to recognize your ship on sight, and can see a hack on the registry.” Tony’s fingers are cold against Steve’s skin and he wonders at that.

“We’re going to have to switch out ships. That means we’re going to be one ship down as far as weapons are concerned,” Steve says. “You want all the cargo haulers because they’re weaponized. Funny that, considering Stark Corp was the biggest weapon’s manufacturer around and now you’re clamoring to get your hands on weapons I’m pretty sure Carol and Phil will sign up, don’t know Quill well enough to say. Sam will sign on to be our navigator, fairly sure of that.”

“Yes, I want the haulers for that reason alone. I only have one ship at my disposal and it’s not gunned like a hauler is. I’d hoped to have a hauler by the time we got to the Inner Belts. Having more than one will be excellent, but-.”

“But we still have to go in first, without the guns you were counting on,” Steve finishes. “You’re sure we don’t have to worry about Stane? Going to get your ship puts us out in the open.”

“No, Happy will be there. And remember, Stane thinks I’m either dead, on a life dome, or sailing around with you.”

“It’s that last one that I’m worried about.”

“Stane isn’t going to hang out on Parson’s Point to find out if we’re going to show up there.” Tony hisses through his teeth. “Almost wish he was – he has one sweet ship if we could get that one, we’d be set.” Tony smiles, and it is kind and brilliant and bold. It hitches right in Steve’s chest. 

“No chance of that then?” Steve asks because it would be a great asset for them if they could get a top of the line ship.

“Nope, he’s back at the Inner Belts, oozing his greasy flesh around trying to play favorite. We’re stuck with my ship. My ship doesn’t have much, just the routine guns, nothing fancy and easily knocked out.”

“I’m surprised, considering.”

“Unfortunately, the ship has been under Stark Corp and Stane’s control for too long. But Happy has it now, and the Commando should be able to get to Parson’s Point without detection.”

“Thus the reason for the route around with the registry and signatures,” Steve says. “We get to Parson’s Point, switch ships-.”

“Only be a few of us, the ship is small and I have to take my containers with my suits.”

“Right, then we’re off to the Inner Belts. Problem is how do we explain it? At this point the Rag-nets are reporting you missing in action. They don’t know if you’re alive or dead or in one of the life domes waiting for rescue.” Steve shakes his head and plays with his now empty coffee cup. “It’s gonna be tricky.”

“I’m still a little stuck on that one.”

“We could have an elaborate story of your escape, but the best strategy is to go with something pretty simple and close to the truth,” Steve says. “We have to go with you on the Commando with us, and then once you get to Parson’s Point, you escape.”

“Yes, that’s probably best, but that leaves me without backup and I need someone to hit the Main Chamber while I’m taking out Ultron.” 

“How much damage can you inflict with one of those repulsors?” Steve says and points to Tony’s hand. He doesn’t have the armed jewelry on now.

“Substantial.”

“Can you dial it down?”

“What like change the setting? I can’t make it a stun gun or anything but I can decrease the level of the burn on skin, or the damage to a ship. Why?”

“You can get me on, if we go with the idea that you overpowered me with your tech. You hit me with one of those weapons, hard enough to leave a mark and make it believable, and then you can walk me right into the Main Chamber-.”

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me with you injured. That wasn’t the plan, fuck this.” Tony starts to stand up, but Steve grabs his hand and pulls him back toward the seat.

“Why don’t you tell me what the damned plan was – you keep telling me a distraction to the Main Chamber. You want cargo haulers to risk everything and strike a highly shielded, military zone with what little weaponry they have so that you can go in and take out Ultron,” Steve says. “The Captains will last less than an hour and you know it.” 

“No, no they won’t but everyone has to be sacrificed in war, Captain, I thought you knew that.” Tony stands over him, unwilling to sit down.

“And you’re the General to make that decision?” Steve asks. When Tony doesn’t give an inch, Steve continues, “We can’t count on the haulers making much of a difference directly at the Main Chamber, but they can hit the Grids – while we go directly to the Main Chamber.”

“The Grids? They’re direct feed to the Main Chamber of the nets.”

“Exactly, we cut off the Grid with the haulers, the Main Chamber will be distracted enough to make some mistakes. The first mistake we need them to make is to allow you to escort your injured prisoner as a present, a gift, to Ultron and the bigwigs of the Main Chamber.” Steve waits and Tony slowly settles back on the chair across from him. He still looks like he might bolt at any minute, but Steve has his attention. 

“And then?”

“And then we use your little trick with the suits, you said you can call them to you and to Pepper?” When Tony nods, Steve says, “You promised you could do it for me as well?”

“It’ll take a bit.”

“Do it.”

Tony remains silent for a moment, and then says, “You’ll be injured.”

“I heal fast.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“Nothing worth it ever is.”

“We might die,” Tony warns.

Steve leans across the table, focus unwavering as he says, “I don’t intend to die. I get the feeling, Sir Stark, that you had prepared to die for this, and I going to tell you right now, that’s not going to happen. What we’re going to do is set the place on fire while the haulers take over the Grids and the Chitauri wreak havoc at the same time. I don’t intend to die, what I intend to do is celebrate. What about you?”

“Celebrate?” Tony says with a raised brow.

“Oh yes, celebrate.” Steve says and winks at him. 

Tony claps once and throws his head back to laugh. When he calms enough to speak again he says to Steve, “You know I thought going to war with you would be interesting, disarming, and a little intimidating, I never thought it might be fun.”

“War isn’t exactly a picnic, Tony.” But his smile doesn’t drop.

“You know, I counted on you doing the right thing, I never thought of you as a rebel, though,” Tony says and there’s a look on his face that borders on adoration.

“Well, then you need to pay closer attention, because I’ve never been a perfect soldier.”


	20. Chapter 20

Steve stands to the side as several of the members of the colony help load up the cargo ships. The heat of the day shimmers in the sun’s light and Steve wonders on it, thinks of how beautiful the Earth may have been once. But that’s a fairy tale now, and fairy tales are for children, not for men and women preparing for war. Even the idea of war sends a cold shiver down his spine. He shrugs it off and taps on his pad, checking the plan once again. It doesn’t escape him that starting a war with a handful of ships is ludicrous, but everything about this situation is.

Striding up to him, Thor nods and claps him on the back. Thor had been quite amicable about his strategy to play into Loki’s ego and get the Chitauri to provide a very realistic cover slash distraction for when they walk straight into the Main Chamber and try to take it down without major bloodshed.

“It is done, my good Captain, I have sent my message to the Lady Sif. She will ensure that it is delivered to Loki who, even now, wreaks havoc over the Nine Realms with his army, the Chitauri. I expect he will take the bait and coming fishing as you say.”

Steve doesn’t bother correcting Thor; he’s pleased that the god or alien has decided to side with them in this mess and not with his lost brother. “You’ll be riding along with Carol on this one. I need you to be in a ship that the Main Chamber doesn’t expect to be directly linked to me. But it will be dangerous, since you were seen with Jane at the Chromes, and it was reported on the Rag-nets.”

“Understood, your tactics are sound,” Thor says. “I will petition the Main Chamber and my petition will be directly linked to an offering that the Main Chamber will not refuse with the caveat that they will capture Loki.” He studies Steve for a moment before he turns and says, “You are confident the Main Chamber will accept the offer?”

“You’re offering them the Nine Realms in exchange for your brother’s head.” Steve shrugs. “They are a greedy bunch and the stuff you call magic is some technology they’d like to get their hands on.”

“My brother will think it out of character for me to be so vindictive.”

“Truly?” Steve folds his arms across his chest and waits.

“Yes, dear Captain, I will admit I have been quite the rebellious son in the past, but I have changed my ways. There are broader, more important things out there to concern ourselves with than glory.” Thor spots Jane as she starts to load up of the Marvel. “Many other things are more important, I hope you will see this as well.”

“I do, Thor, I do,” Steve says. “But sometimes, what we find more important personally has to be set aside for the greater good.”

Thor bows his head and squeezes Steve’s shoulder. “Fair well, good Captain.”

“You, too,” Steve returns and Thor departs to join Jane and the Marvel crew for their appointment at the Main Chamber. 

Once all of the cargo ships launch, they will separate and fly different routes, to various destinations. The Marvel will end up at the Inner Belts as well as Coulson’s crew. He wants to ensure as many of the cargo ships converge on the Inner Belts at the same time, but that they arrive from different points – that way the Main Chamber cannot specifically tag who is working with Steve and who isn’t. It will be a crap shoot for them, as Tony put it.

Some of the haulers will have the job of creating a diversion away from the Belts to create confusion. Quill and his motley crew volunteered for that one. He doesn’t know the man well, but he hopes he lives up to his reputation, though Steve has an inkling that half of his reputation might be self-promoted. 

“Still brooding, Captain, my Captain?” Tony says as he sidles up to Steve.

“Not brooding, just checking to make sure we’re set to go,” Steve says, pockets his pad, and notices Tony’s eyes are searching the long distant cityscape. They are out at the landing pads for the cargo ships, far distant from the tattered remains of their once home planet. 

“We’re ready, we’re ready. Happy should have the ship good to go,” Tony says. “He’s not the greatest pilot but he pays attention to details.”

“Good, going in on your ship will help us out. They won’t expect me to be on the ship,” Steve says and crosses over the dry landscape toward the Commando. “But Natasha will pilot your ship.”

“I’m not sure Happy will be happy with that one.”

“Then let him change his name,” Natasha says as she passes them on the way to the Commando. She smirks as she climbs up the ramp way into the ship. 

Tony mutters something that Steve doesn’t catch, but as they follow her up the ramp, Steve feels the comfort of the ship around him. It feels like walking into his old ratty apartment on the Rims. It feels like the cloak of safety, of home. He smiles and releases a breath. Tony smiles at him.

“You ready for this?”

Steve lifts his brows and says, “Are we ever really ready?”

“Don’t get existential on me now, Captain,” Tony says and spots Pepper standing with Bruce to the side of the large cargo crates that hold his armor. He pats Steve’s back and races off to join them.

Steve doesn’t linger, they have a schedule to keep. He hoists himself up to the cockpit deck and finds both Natasha and Sam settling in. “Sam, you don’t have to do this. I know you’re busy with the colony.”

“You need a wingman, I’m it. Besides, you can’t do everything on this bucket, especially with Bucky being injured and your navigator going AWOL on you.” Sam keeps his eyes on the console the entire time he’s talking.

“Clint didn’t go AWOL, he was abducted by a maniac,” Natasha says and looks over Sam’s head to where Steve is standing. 

“Once we get to Parson’s Point, don’t feel obligated to hang out with us. I don’t want you implicated-.”

“Geez, what the hell kind of friend do you take me for. I’m with ya buddy, seriously, get a grip. All of us want this to succeed. I’m doing this, not only for you, but for my folks back at the colony.” He points over his shoulder as if he’s indicating the underground base. “You think I came here to get a piece of your fine ass, you got another thing coming. This ain’t no school yard crush I got on you. This is about what’s right. My folks they want a fair deal, too. You think it’s nice living on the Edges? Seriously, no one gives a crap about Earth anymore. Bunch of no good savages if you ask me.”

“I think we got us a preacher on board, boss,” Natasha drawls out with a wink and then returns to her preflight calculations and check lists. “You gonna give me the calcs or what Wilson?”

Steve raises an eyebrow and smiles. “I’ll get everyone ready for launch.”

He keys in the announcement and then heads back toward the galley and guest quarters. Tony and Pepper are already belted in by the time he arrives. “Just checking. We’ll be launching in just little over five minutes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Pepper says and she has a hand cupped over Tony’s. She doesn’t remove it when he notices. 

Clearing his throat, he says, “Ma’am not sure what sleeping arrangements you would like-.”

“I thought I was staying with Natasha?” Pepper says and those words set him at ease.

“You can take my quarters, ma’am. I think Bucky would appreciate having a better place to sleep than the racks, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, Captain, that would be wonderful.” 

Tony pipes in. “You can stay here with me.”

“I don-.”

“Don’t be silly Captain, you should stay with Tony. There’s no reason not to,” Pepper says and when he doesn’t protest further, she adds, “Well that settles that, only if everything was that easy.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Steve says and excuses himself. 

The launch goes well and, in all, counting the Commando as a proxy for Tony’s ship, the Marvel, the Agent, the Starlord, and several other minor cargo ships, they have seven boats headed toward the Inner Belts or other points. It isn’t an armada, but then it isn’t intended to be one. They just need enough ships to create a disturbance so that Tony and Steve can do their part. 

Though he’s technically staying with Tony in his quarters during the trip, he doesn’t see him that often. Between working on strategies and tactics, monitoring their fake registries and specifications to ensure long range scanners don’t pick them up too soon, and Tony working with Bruce to complete the overhaul of the engine and finishing the reconstruction of Bucky’s arm, they aren’t afforded much time together.

During the sleep cycles of which they take only a precious few, Steve falls into bed with Tony anxious and all too aware of his body. Tony nestles next to him at times, other times he’s more like a hungry animal, attacking Steve with a voraciousness that even leaves marks on Steve the next day. Steve wonders if it might be part fear that drives Tony. None of them know what’s going to happen, and Tony isn’t a soldier. He’s a Courtesan, and before that a businessman and a student. He isn’t prepared to die for the greater good. 

At one particularly painful point Tony urges Steve and asks him to tie him, to gag him, to hit him. They are wrapped around one another, heaving, and hot with the touch of flesh and sweat. Steve fumbles away, thinking Tony must be joking, but he’s serious. His eyes wild with desire and need, and there’s fear tinted within them as well. 

The lights are low, he can barely see in the bluish hue of the arc reactor. Pulling away, Steve grimaces and shakes his head. “What?”

Tony catches his breath from their kiss and says, “Hit me, I want you to hit me and gag me, and use me.”

“I don’t, I don’t think I want to do that, Tony,” Steve says and cannot fathom where this came from. He wonders if Tony’s bored with Steve; he is a Courtesan, after all, much more experienced than Steve ever will be and trained in the arts of sex and sensuality. “Do you, do you want me to? Isn’t this enough?” He feels stupid, ashamed, and the heat in his cheeks burn his eardrums and flows down to warm his chest.

“No, I mean yes, I mean it’s fine, you’re fine,” Tony says and scrambles off the bed. He keeps his eyes down, and averted to avoid meeting Steve’s gaze.

“What the hell is going on here, Tony?” Steve says and tries to reach across the gap to catch Tony’s wrist. Even though the quarters is small, he still manages to elude Steve. He stands with his face toward the recess toward the bath and his bare ass to Steve. “Tony?”

He turns and, for the first time ever, he has his hands over his groin as if to shield himself from Steve, or from shame. Steve isn’t sure which, or if there is a difference. “Tony?”

“Don’t, don’t look at me that way,” Tony says and his shoulders are tense, up and forward. “Please, don’t make me beg.”

“I don’t want you to beg, but I’m not going to abuse you, I thought we were making love,” Steve says, and the words are out of his month before he’s able to clamp his mouth shut, they fall tumbling out like a jumble of marbles down steps. 

When the words come out Tony stops and his shoulders lose their tension, draining away, and his hands fall away. “Ma-making love?”

Now, it is Steve’s turn to cast his eyes away. It isn’t like he’s been straight with Tony, they’ve danced around the issue more than confronted it. Some hero.

Tony approaches the bed, knees onto it, and crawls over to Steve. “Making love?”

Steve raises his eyes to look at Tony. “Yes, I’ve been in love with you for ages now, Tony. I just haven’t been brave enough to say it. Some courageous Captain America, huh?”

“Hey, hey,” Tony says and glides his hand along Steve’s jaw. “You’re courageous, and beautiful, and tender, and I love you, too.”

He cups his hand at the back of Steve’s neck and draws him close – the kiss when it comes, brings an intensity and depth that sets his nerves ablaze and his desire up a notch or two. But it is the pause right before the kiss, as Tony searches Steve’s face, his eyes, as if looking for the truth in his confession, as if he expects to find a lie. Steve waits and allows Tony the moments before and then Tony dives into the kiss like a man hungered for too many hours and only satiated with this, this need to touch and feel and validate.

When they break apart, Tony smiles and tips his head against Steve’s forehead. “Why, why, why?” 

“Why?”

“Why do you make me so happy?” Tony says and taps out kisses along Steve’s lips, his chin, his throat. “You make me believe it will all work out.”

“It will,” Steve says. He isn’t joking or being trite, because in all honesty Steve always believes that right will win and wrong will be vanquished. It is naïve and idiotic in some ways, but it carries him through the darkest days.

Tony holds Steve’s face in his hands, palms against his throat. “You are my ruination.”

“Tony, I love you. We’ll get through this, together.” 

Tony nods but his eyes are closed, and a slight tremor shudders through him.

“Why all the requests, Tony? Why do you want me to gag you, hurt you?” For a moment, Steve thinks he’s been too vanilla with Tony, that he’s boring. Someone like Tony with his skillset must hate being with someone as pedestrian as Steve.

“You won’t like it if I tell you,” Tony says.

His heart sinks; it’s true then. His mouth feels dry as he says, “Why, please, tell me. Maybe I can make it right.”

Tony releases Steve and sits back. “Oh you can make it right, you can make it right by ensuring that we’re going to win this thing.”

The world skips a beat and Steve blinks his eyes to clear his head. “Um, what?”

“I just- I have to be prepared. You know,” Tony says. “Ever since I was kidnapped and tortured, and all that other wonderful crap, I’ve been careful. I’ve been prepared. Now, I need to be ready.”

“We’re ready, Tony. We have everything set. We’re good,” Steve says and recognizes the nervousness of a soldier before the siege. 

“Are we?” Tony says and rubs his forehead, then drops his hand. “Okay, yes we are. But that’s not what I mean. I mean.” He lets out a heavy breath. “I mean that I like to cover all my bases. And one of the bases is if we fail.”

“We’re not-.”

Tony holds up a finger and says, “No, we’re not. But what we are going to do is win, but I still need to be prepared for if we don’t succeed.” Tony quakes and, at first Steve thinks it is fear, but then then he realizes it isn’t, it’s more like a way to clear his body of some unseen, unwanted touch. 

Before Steve can say anything, Tony slips off the bed and starts to pace in the confined space. It would be comical, if Tony didn’t have a maniac almost desperate demeanor about him. “I’ve done a lot in my life, Captain. Too much, way too much. I’m a Courtesan, damn it, and I do things, you know. I’m open. I’ve done the dom/sub thing. Been one or the other, no problem. I’ve sat with sponsors and listened to them cry over their lost loves, I’ve submitted to all kinds of different play and things, but -.” He looks to Steve for the first time. “But this Ultron, he’s different.”

“How?” Steve can’t keep his voice from sounding small, inconsequential, and pained. 

“Everything we know about him is- it’s rumor. Most is just a bunch of myths, but myth is based on some kind of fact, right?”

“I don-.”

“It is, it is. Well, most of the time, not always, but Ultron changed everything, everything about the Main Chamber, the way Human Space operated. He changed ideals and the fucking Constitution. But nobody knows what the fuck he looks like, no one even knows if he’s a he. I don’t even know what he wants with me-.” 

Steve jumps off the bed and grabs Tony mid-stride. “Stop, stop.” He grasps onto Tony’s upper arms and strokes up and down a few times. “Stop. This is just not necessary. You’re getting yourself all riled up on smoke and mirrors.”

“I don’t know that smoke and mirrors crap has kept people in line for quite a while, Steve. He must use some of that anti-aging enhancements, which are supposed to be illegal. They make you insane, they mak-.”

Steve places a finger on Tony’s lips. “Stop. Shush, come back to bed, lie down with me and let me make love to you.”

“I want you,” Tony cringes and says with a hiss. “I want you to hurt me so that when he does, when he does I can remember you.”

Steve clasps onto Tony then, holds him close and buries his face at the juncture of neck and shoulder. “Don’t say things like that,” he mutters. “Please.”

“I’m asking you to do this,” Tony says and his voice is only a whisper.

“Don’t make me,” Steve says, and his will melts and he thinks maybe Tony is right, maybe they should prepare for failure. Going up against Goliath with less than slingshot guarantees failure. “Failure isn’t an option.”

Tony wrenches away and his eyes dancing about Steve’s face once again, looking for verification. “Okay, okay.” He nods and then tugs Steve back to bed. 

What follows is nameless, and peaceful, and desperate, and perfect. They find their resolution to hold onto the ideal together.

In the next days, as they prepare for war they glide in from the hyper dimensionality jump point to the next jump point, Steve often revisits that moment they found one another, pledged a kind of silent vow to one another and he thinks of as the first time they made love. He recalls the look of devotion, the feel of Tony under him, the sensation of flesh and heat and purity of something that rings with truth and bared to the soul. 

It is over two weeks later, when they are underway with jump after jump they reach Parson’s Point. Tony who had been settled since their discussion and who had been in Steve’s arms every night since then, content, satiated, and happy, turns ragged, nervous, and prickly. He’s nearly unapproachable, and Pepper keeps apologizing to everyone on board when Tony is out of earshot.

She’s especially focused on Steve’s reaction to Tony’s mood swings. He only heads her off and says, “He’s nervous. Every soldier gets nervous before the battle.”

“He said he was a soldier? I doubt that - Tony would have said something to the effect that we are not soldiers.” Pepper stands at the counter in the small galley kitchen, they are only hours out of Parson’s Point landing. 

Steve stirs his coffee, and bows his head. “You’re right. He would never say that.” He peeks at her and she has a certain smart charm to her as if she’s a flower that’s from the tree of knowledge. He considers her and says, “Why do you think Tony is doing this?”

“I’m not sure I understand your question.”

“Why is he risking it all? He’s part of the Elite class, he has everything he requires, or needs, or could ever desire.” He sips the coffee and cradles the mug in his hands.

“Why wouldn’t he? Just because a person has been born to a certain division of class doesn’t define them. It works both ways, Captain. Why do you do it?” She regards him and when he opens his mouth, only to close it, and rethink his answer, she smiles. “See, it does work both ways. Now, I’m going to get ready for the landing.”

He lifts his cup and watches as she leaves. Sighing, he finishes off his coffee and then finds his way back to the cockpit. Sam has settled in nicely in Clint’s seat, but it brings a pang to his heart when he sees him. He’s lost a good friend and a good man when Loki abducted Clint. He can only hope their plan will rescue Clint as well and not lead to a secondary casualty. 

“Cap,” Sam says. “We got some scuttlebutt, you might be interested in.” 

“What’s that?” Steve leans forward against the bulkhead. The windscreen array shows the large blue green moon of a gas giant planet looming as they center the Commando for a landing. 

“Something’s going on at SHIELD,” Natasha says.

“What? Did they register us as the Commando? Isn’t the signal bug Tony implemented working?” Steve asks and scans the console.

From behind him, he hears the answer. “Don’t get your excellently shaped booty in a twist, Captain. Nothing can beat my bug.” Tony comes into view. He looks harassed and tired. Steve tilts his head to ask if everything is okay – Tony only waves him off. “We’ll be fine. We’re coming into Parson’s Point, and on top of that – there’s a bay there owned by my family. Happy should be there.”

“We’re docking in just under an hour,” Natasha confirms. “I’ve been cleared already by the dock officer for the planet.”

“Great, so SHIELD?” Steve asks. He hasn’t contacted them since the Chromes attack. Since he’s technically an outlaw, checking in would be a bad idea at this point.

“Fury and Hill have gone off the grid,” Natasha says.

“What?” Steve says. 

At the same time, Tony says, “What does that even mean?”

“It means that SHIELD put an alert out on the Grids for anyone who may have seen them to alert SHIELD,” Natasha says.

“Why would they disappear? What is up with that?” Tony says and scrapes a hand down the back of his head. “That is weird, but you know a lot of these Corps go through internal shake ups, could be due to one of those. I wouldn’t write it off that Fury and Hill just went and sold out to another Corp or something.”

“Or something,” Steve says and thinks on what Fury had told him. Not to trust people, to watch out for things. “Not sure.”

“Better get strapped in for the landing,” Natasha says. “We’re hitting atmosphere in fifteen.”

Steve nods and then looks back at Tony. They could just bolt in here, but instead he gestures for Tony to follow him and they end up back in their shared quarters, clamped in and ready to land. Neither of them say anything. It isn’t like this is the end, it is only the beginning. 

Once they disembark and load up Tony’s ship it will be another few weeks of jumps toward the Inner Belts. They’ll have quite a few days together, time to explore and be with one another, but it becomes all the more real when you are on the battleground, then when you are looking at maps and making plans.

Thoughts and ideas are different than rock and blood.

Tony bites his lips and offers an open palm to Steve. He reaches out, holds it and then the ship crashes through the atmosphere, burning into the world and changing everything. He doesn’t let go the entire time until Natasha verifies safe touchdown.

After, he unbuckles and notices that Tony sits without moving, he hunches forward, with elbows on knees and says, “What?”

“Don’t judge me, okay?”

“I’m not sure what we’re talking about?” Steve says and reaches over to unbuckle Tony’s belt. 

“The ship I own, it’s pretty luxurious.” Tony keeps his eyes averted and fiddles with the pad he has clutched in his hand.

“I’d imagine so,” Steve says and chuckles. “Still can’t believe you were able to convince Stane to book passage on my old bucket of bolts.”

“Good for the Stark Corp image to be associated with Captain America,” Tony says and abruptly comes back to himself. He finishes undoing the straps and stands up. 

“Not going to be true now,” Steve says. 

Tony quirks a brow and says, “Well, you’re not wrong there, Captain of my heart.”

Steve laughs, an honest to goodness belly laugh. He holds himself and says, “Seriously, Tony, Captain of my Heart, that sounds like cheap Rag-net porno.”

“Well, maybe after all is said and done we can make one and that could be the title,” Tony says. “Now.” He looks down at his ratty jeans and t-shirt. “I have to get dressed.”

“Formal wear?” Steve says.

“Hell no, this is only Happy and those urchin kids, probably. I should be in a suit at least.”

“Why?”

“It’s Happy.” Tony widens his eyes as if that’s a clue.

“Is he your husband that you didn’t tell me about?”

Tony guffaws and wrinkles his nose at Steve. “What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is this important?” Steve asks.

“Because, it is. Happy expects certain things, he needs me to be his boss, I need him to – oh I don’t know, I just need to wait a suit,” Tony says and starts digging through the small storage compartment in the quarters.

“Are we talking about armor or like clothes?”

Tony peeks out and says, “Why the hell would I wear my armor to greet Happy, what the hell do you think this is?”

Steve spins around and opens his hands to the air. “I have no idea, really.”

Tony pops up on his toes, kisses Steve on the cheek, and ushers him out the port door. “See you in a bit.”

Steve allows it because he can see the nervous anxiety radiating off of Tony. He must need to do something, anything to prepare himself. Sometimes familiar routines help with adjustments, accommodates the perceived weakness. He heads down to the cargo level; they’ll need to move Tony’s cargo crates and since they are massive it will take some hauling to get them down the ramp way and into the main dock of Parson’s Point. Before they move the crates, the plan is to get Steve to Tony’s ship without anyone being the wiser. Since they touched down in Tony’s landing port, it shouldn’t be a problem. Happy’s been instructed to follow a certain routine and clear out any surveillance that could give them away. 

Before he climbs down the ladder, Sam calls him. “Hey, we got a few questions from the port officers.”

“Coming,” Steve says and switches to go to the cockpit. It was expected that there would be some interrogation. They are flying under the name of Jericho – something Tony came up with – he also was responsible for slipping in all of their information into the databases so that they would show up as a routine cargo hauler. While their specs have been manipulated to match the bogus ship, anyone on site who actually knows the Commando would be a risk. The fact that Parson’s Point is an unusual stop for them works in their favor. 

It doesn’t stop Steve from being uneasy when he takes the call through the comm link. When the inquiry asks for visual, Steve only says, “Sorry, it’s down. We need a new driver for it.”

“Usual, okay,” the officer says. He continues to quiz Steve for several minutes, asking for all kind of license, quizzing him about their uncharted and unregistered itinerary. 

“Really? It’s probably due to the fact most systems have us under the wrong spelling.” He offers alternative spellings and it works – Tony likes to add a little flare to the cover story. Steve’s just lucky he has an eidetic memory. Eventually the questioning comes to a close and Steve tugs at his collar once he disconnects the link. They’d prepared for all of this and it’s worked like a charm. 

“That sounded like it was fun,” Sam comments.

“Great fun,” Steve mutters.

“This is going to work.”

Steve smiles and says, “I guess I’m just feeling a little rusty.”

“One step at a time, Captain,” Sam says and slaps him on the back. He nods.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve says and does a finger salute to him while Sam and Natasha go through the shutdown routine. They’ll be parking the boat here for a while, as they wait for the transition to the new ship.

As he walks the gantry to the ladder down to the main cargo hold, he finds Bucky jumping the last few rungs to the hold. 

“Hey, wait up,” Steve says and slides down the rails of the ladder. Bucky looks worlds better and Tony had been able to reconnect the rest of the metal arm. There’s still severe damage to the casing of it, but it’s functional and that’s what matters. 

Bucky stops but he doesn’t turn around, not at first, but then he squares his shoulders as if he’s made a bargain with himself, and turns to face Steve. “You want me in the sniper’s pod? I can go up to cover you when you disembark.”

“What? No,” Steve says. “Buck, if they wanted to attack us they wouldn’t be waiting for us to walk down the main ramp. This is Tony’s port. We’re good.”

“You can’t be sure,” Bucky waits. When Steve doesn’t relent, he exhales, loudly. “Come on Steve, you have got to be kidding me. You’re not going to take any precautions?”

“Bucky, we’ve taken precautions. We have a cover, it worked. I just checked in.” Steve studies him, knows his friend is only offering advice. “Listen, Tony knows this place. This is a routine port for him. Happy’s here, he’s getting everything ready for us. Once we walk down the ramp, we’ll be fine. I swear it.”

“You’re letting love cloud your mind.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh Christ, it’s true, isn’t it?” Bucky throws his hands up. “You do love him. Fuck, Steve, he’s a Courtesan. What could you have that he could possibly want?”

Steve stares at him, silent, pained, shocked “You know, Bucky, all the time I was a sickly runt, you never made me feel inadequate, or unwanted. Thanks for changing that now.”

Bucky closes his eyes and bites back his reply, and then he deflates – his defense withering. “I just, I don’t want you hurt, you know. You’re it, when it comes down to it. Yeah I got Nat, and everything, but shit, in the end, Steve – it’s you. We’re a team, family. It’s you and me. Family. You know.”

“We always will be Bucky, I’m not letting you out of my sights,” Steve says. “You’re too much trouble not to keep an eye on.”

“You too, you punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve replies and smiles. 

“Please, for old time sake, take a comm link bud in your ear. Call me if you need me when you walk down that ramp.” He hands over the bud.

Steve takes it, grits his teeth, and says. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

“Take care, old man.”

“Who you calling old, you geezer.” 

Bucky turns into the Engine room, meeting up with Bruce before the unloading takes place. They’ll need to move out the lifts in order to get the crates off the ship. As Steve turns around, Tony appears and he’s gleaming, like always, shining and devilish in his beauty. Steve can’t help but smile.

“See, the suit does it, doesn’t it?” Tony says as he yanks on the lapels to white suit. “I told JARVIS to prepare Happy, make sure the dock was clean so that we could move you out of the ship, and to my ship without any interference. We shouldn’t meet a soul. Surveillance should all be cleaned up without any trouble.”

“It’s kind of strange, being a fugitive,” Steve says. 

“It’ll be even stranger when we’re aboard my ship and about to disembark at the Inner Belts.”

Steve places his hands on his hips and says, “Yeah, that won’t be any fun.” 

“So, dear Captain, let’s live it up while we can,” Tony says and gestures to the ramp way. Pepper meets them half way and they walk down.

Tony’s correct in that there isn’t a soul in sight. The ramp closes up tight after they exit and Steve only glances back once at the ship. He knows his people understand the plan, will follow it, but at the same time, he hates to leave them without a goodbye.

Tony finds his hand, squeezes it, and says, “You’ll see them again. Only a few hours, Cap.”

Steve clears his throat and says, “Yeah, yes, I know.”

“Come on then,” Tony says and laces his fingers into Steve’s. “Aren’t you interested to see how your kids are treating Happy?”

Steve grins. “Yeah, that’ll be interesting.”

As they walk the length of the flight deck toward the main hanger for their gate, Pepper clicks through her pad and stops for a moment. “Hmm.”

“What’s that?” Tony says and looks behind him because she’s a step back, stopped in her tracks.

“I can’t get – wait, what?” Pepper says and her head snaps up. “Happy? Happy?” She’s screaming and Steve turns.

Happy races toward them, yelling at them, his hands up, motioning them back toward the Commando. “Go, go, go.” Even at this distance, Steve spies the bruising on Happy’s face. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tony says and they both spin around at the same time. Pepper follows, but it’s already too late.

Steve lifts his hand to tap the ear bud of the comm link as he grabs Pepper’s arm to drag her along with them. They aren’t twenty meters from the Commando, but they might as well be half a world away. There are Doom-bots descending from the sky, pouring in like locusts on a harvest. 

A swarm of them buzz around them, surrounding them, cutting them off from the Commando. One small tap and call to Bucky and the place will be split open with fire. His crew won’t be able to get away. No one will. He taps the ear bud as the Doom bots swarm closer and the wind from the approaching dock copters hits them. This isn’t a safe port, this isn’t a safe port at all.

He connects to the cockpit channel instead of Bucky. “Natasha, Sam?”

“Coming through, Cap, what’s going on out there?” Natasha says.

“Get out now, that’s an order.”

Before she can protest, he rips the bud from his ear, throws it to the ground, and smashes it with the heel of his boot. There are dozens of Doom-bots, at least three copters zeroing in on them, and from the main hanger, a truck rumbles toward them. He’s lost sight of Happy in the crowd. As the Doom-bots encircle them, he hears the engines of the Commando come back to life. With a roar they burn the ground and Natasha launches the ship, hitting one of the copters, causing it to spin out of control. 

Steve grabs Pepper, and Tony and dives for cover near a group cargo crates as the copter crashes to take out several of the buzzing horde. The Commando doesn’t fly off and abandon them as Steve hopes. Instead, it rotates around and aims its sniper pod toward the robotic army. He spots Bucky in the pod and then a round of fire peppers the bots, picking them off one by one. But it isn’t enough, it can’t be enough when the bots endlessly converge upon the docking bay.

Sirens sing out and the remaining two copters open up their armaments and blast the Commando with rounds of precision fire. As the fire fight continues, Steve shuffles both Tony and Pepper toward the packing crates, cursing that they never got the damned suits off of the ship. A quick glance at Tony tells him that even the hand repulsors were left behind. Steve has no weapons, not his shield, not his gun.

Shrapnel and blast particles scatter over them and Steve forces both Tony and Pepper underneath him. His body can take the heated metal as it burns holes through the fabric of his uniform and scorches his skin. He hears a muttered curse from Tony, and Pepper is desperately trying to get a hold of Happy or JARVIS. She fails on both accounts. 

“Signal’s blocked,” Pepper yells over the cacophony of blast fire. 

The copters defending the Doom-bots are joined by several of the port’s main police ships, often called buggies. They’re small, sleek, and deadly. Steve risks a glance up in the sky as the Commando has a dozen on its tail and has to shoot out and leave them on their own as it fights off their sharp cutting fire. 

Defenseless, Steve whispers, “Just follow my lead. Neither of you have to worry about this-.”

“I am not letting you take the fall,” Tony says.

“This isn’t up for debate,” Steve returns and stands up. The bright silver Doom bots hover over them and he places his hands in the air. Without weapons, for now, this is the only move left to them. Hand to hand combat is out of the question with Pepper and Tony defenseless.

“I surrender.” The bots circle them as Tony curses behind him.

From beyond the mass of the bots, a voice replies, “Well, of course you do, Captain Rogers.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tony says as he helps Pepper to her feet. “Stane.”


	21. Chapter 21

The cell is less than two meters by two meters. He cannot fully stretch out when he lies down on the cold floor. A grate in the one corner serves as his toilet and a touch activated faucet that only provides cold water hangs over it. He offered himself up peacefully, hoping that Tony and Pepper would be safe. The echo of Tony’s voice rings in his head as Stane took him into custody, as his personal guard dragged Steve away, as the electrified prods hit him again and again. 

Tony had screamed and cursed Sir Stane, rammed into him physically and beat his fist into Stane’s face. Steve estimated that Stane had, at the very least, suffered a broken nose. Eventually, more personal guard were called in and the scuffle quieted. Pepper looked defiant and terrified, Tony – Tony’s expression dug into Steve’s heart.

Despair, sorrow, regret crossed Tony’s features and he fought against the men holding him while trying to get to Steve. Eventually, the guards overwhelmed Tony and Steve had been whisked away, a black fabric bag slipped over his head.

He had stumbled and fought. Above all else he wanted to know Tony and Pepper were safe, and that his ship had escaped. He knew nothing, and he kept struggling against them and yelling his voice raw trying to get the information.

Finally, they shoved him into the cell and Stane appeared. He had said, “Promise you’ll behave and cooperate, and that little slut you call Tony and his bitch assistant will be personally protected by me from any harm.”

Steve relented. 

They stripped him of any clothes and bound him with cuffs made from a rare metal alloy of adamantium. A collar of it went around his throat with a chain that linked to his wrists that were bound behind his back. A second chain leashed him to the wall of the cell. 

He knows he’s on a ship of some sort, he can feel the vibration of the engine through the flooring. The slight shift of the pressure in his ears as they launch, and the subtle changes in gravity. It must be a fairly well-appointed ship since the break from the atmosphere and the planetary gravity doesn’t lead to any upset. He doubts a normal human would be able to detect the minor disturbance in the gravitational field, it is one of the gifts of the serum. He wonders bleakly if they are on Tony’s ship, and then he cycles down to the idea of Tony and where he might be.

Is he safe?

Is he alive?

He shouldn’t have allowed Tony to come with him. This entire fiasco was a fool’s errand. Bucky always told him he rushed in and wanted to be a hero because he had something to prove, a holdover from his days as a sickly child pulled into back alleys of the Rim world he grow up on to be beaten and cast aside. 

The chain to the wall allows him little movement, but he lists to the side, leaning against the wall of the cell to rest. As he closes his eyes, a siren sounds and he jerks awake. The one side of the four solid walls slides away to reveal a transparent electric field shielded wall. Beyond the containment field, Pepper stands with her hands folded in front of her and a guard standing by her side.

Immediately, he feels exposed and his cheeks color. He’s not a timid soul, but he doesn’t like to be nude in front of someone he knows but is not intimate. It’s different being naked in front of the guards, their dead eyes, and their careless attitudes makes it easier somehow. Having Pepper Potts in front of him as he sits chained to a wall, naked, and on display flushes his skin red.

She considers the guard and, after a moment, the man nods once and departs. She turns back to him and steps closer to the field. 

Swallowing down his pride, he says, “Are you hurt?”

“Hardly, Captain,” she replies and smiles, though it is warm it is not untouched by pain. “Sir Stane allowed me to visit with you.”

Steve glances to the side, he can’t really see much of the area around her or the rest of the brig. “But you’re well?”

“Yes, Captain, I’m fine.”

“Tony?” he says, and wants to beg her with his eyes, but he leaves the name hanging in the air like a lost article caught in the wind. 

Her gazes skirts him and his heart skips a beat, or several. He doesn’t know because he strains against the chains, yanking at his tethers. “Tony? Is there something wrong? Is he okay? Ms. Potts, Pepper, please.”

She raises her hand and purses her lips as if she’s tasted something sour. Then she slightly bites her lower lip and he recognizes that she’s measuring her words, taking each and every one of them and weighing them against what she can and what she cannot say. He wonders who she’s more afraid for, herself, him, or Tony.

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t answer it if you can’t.”

Her shoulders which are tense and scrunched up like she’s cold, drop a degree and she shakes her head. “No, I can answer. It’s okay, Captain. You can ask. I just, I can’t give you all the details.”

“Is it bad?” He can hardly form the words, it feels like his throat spasms against the air itself.

“It’s complicated,” she says. “Sir Stane is understandably upset with Tony.” She emphasizes the word understandably, and sighs loudly after she finishes.

“He had nothing to do with it,” Steve answers, grasping, trying to follow her lead but it’s all too vague to figure out.

Pepper clutches her hands together, her knuckles white capped and her tendons stick out. “Sir Stane has been discussing with Tony the proper respect for the Elite class. Tony has always been a stubborn student.”

His heart sinks, and he falls back on his haunches. Twisting his wrists, he pulls his arms apart, but the metal doesn’t give or strain or protest. “Are we on a ship? Ms. Potts, where are we going? Do you know?”

She looks to the side and back at him. “I’m sorry, Captain.” Very slowly, she raises her sleeve to show him the same marks on her arms that Tony had on his forearms. Something to call the armor to her, but they don’t have the armor. It’s still on the Commando.

“My crew, my ship? Do you know?” Steve asks.

But she’s shaking her head and the guards are surrounding her before she can answer. “Ms. Potts, Sir Stane would like you to join him for dinner.” One of the guards places a hand on her upper arm and Steve stiffens in his restraints. 

She nods and says, “Can I, can I just have a minute more?”

“I’m sorry ma’am, the prisoner has to eat.”

He wants to protest but he knows it will fall on deaf ears. He hasn’t an idea of how dangerous these guards are; they are Stane’s personal police force – guns for hire. These types – the hired killer types are never to be trusted. They will always go with the highest paycheck. He’s the last person to be able to offer them anything they would ever want. 

Pepper says, “Take care, Captain.”

When she leaves the wall of the cell doesn’t immediately go solid again, but instead, one of the guards places a small bowl on tile next to the containment field. He presses a series of keys on his pad and the tile moves through a section of the field near the floor that disengages. It is no higher than the bowl and Steve cannot reach it from where he’s tethered. The bowl moves into his reach and stops. The wall comes down with a resounding clank and he’s left in the dim light with a bowl of mashed food. 

A long time ago he learned that when held as a prisoner he should eat, regardless of what they offer. Bending over to the bowl, it strains at his neck but he’s able to notch it with his chin and drag it closer. It’s bland but he eats the entire bowl of grains with broth. Nothing about it fills him, but he can’t not eat – his metabolism is a liability in these situations. He can go without food, but he does need higher quantities of it. After cleaning the bowl, he uses his nose to nudge it back to the tile so that it can be removed from his cage. It doesn’t escape him that they are treating him like an animal. He’s not willing to allow that fact to beat him. 

Settling on his side, he tries to rest. With his hands tied behind his back, the chain to his throat tugging at him, finding a comfortable position eludes him. For one racking moment, he thinks of Tony and his heart feels as if barbed wire tightens around it. 

Some hero he is, locked in a cell with a chain around his neck. He might as well be an animal. His hands itch for the feel of his shield, the security of it, the weight of it. He wants nothing more than to be able to break his bonds and find Tony. He’d been arrogant and stupid not to listen to warnings and worries. He wonders how pissed Bucky is with him. Just the thought of this gives him a bit of cheer.

“Pissed,” he mutters. “Is an understatement.” Bucky is not going to be happy with him at all. This brings a smile to his face, but it hurts too much to linger for long. He chastises himself, he needs to pull himself together, not wallow in self-pity. There has to be a way out of this. 

The cage they locked him in is impervious by his critical eye. It truly isn’t a brig for criminals and prisoners as much as a sex slave cage. He should have realized that Stane would dip into forbidden waters. In his travels, he encountered others like Stane who used these types of cage to train their slaves. There is only one weakness to the cage and that is the wall that opens to allow visitations, or food to enter. It is also the only wall not within his reach due to the length of the chain.

The key to freedom ends up being the chain itself. He’ll need to either break the chains, or dislocate a wrist and thumb so that he might be able to slip the cuffs. After that, he should be able to work the collar around his neck. He needs to focus in on his task of getting free, and of rescuing Tony. That first, and then he’ll deal with the rest of their aborted plan.

He spends most of the hours trying to find a weakness in his bindings, only to fail. Hours later, he decides he should rest and does nap. He learned to sleep where ever he could in his war days. When the wall opens again, he’s ready for it, sitting back against the opposite wall with his hands still bound, his legs bent underneath him.

Stane grins at him. He has another guard with him, but this man is dressed differently than the other guards and Steve notes the insignia and identifies the uniform from the First Inner Patrol. The man looks like he knows his craft well, and cockiness and confidence rules his features. 

“Captain, meet Agent Rumlow of the First Inner Patrol, Special Forces Division.” Stane sizes him up and says, “I hope you had a good rest, Captain. I’ve been entertaining Agent Rumlow for a few weeks now, since the Main Chamber decided I needed a babysitter.”

Rumlow shuffles and scowls at Stane.

“Oh, excuse me, Agent, since the Main Chamber decided that it would be prudent to have someone on my guard unit who could deal with my wayward Courtesan, Tony.”

Steve strains against his bonds, the chain clinking. “Don’t you touch him.”

Stane grins and it looks like a horror painting as if someone thought the stuff of nightmares might be soothing. “Oh, Captain, he’s not going to touch Sir Stark. Tony, well, Tony has to be pristine for his sponsor when we arrive. You, on the other hand, caused me quite a bit of upset and stress. The Stark Corp lost credits and investors because of you and your dalliances with Sir Stark.”

Steve shoots him a look of surprise.

“Oh, you think that wasn’t all over the Rag-nets, how you used your position as the Captain of his transportation to solicit his services? How you played on his sensitivities, his mental issues to get him to help you with the incursion of the Chitauri into Human Space?” Stane leans in, his grin only serving to darken his eyes further. “Yes, I colored it that way. You have no reputation to fall back on now, Captain. You’re just like the rest of the Human Space, sick, deviant, and power hungry.”

Rumlow slides out an electric prod. 

“Work him over but leave him aware enough to answer questions,” Stane orders as the containment field drops. As Rumlow enters the small cell, Steve hears Stane’s footsteps as he walks away. Rumlow blocks his entire view.

“Captain,” Rumlow says.

“Special Agent,” Steve replies and waits, studying him, wondering if Rumlow will break his vows as an Inner Patrol agent. 

He flicks on the electrical prod as a response, and paces the confined space. Steve curls into himself, not because he’s afraid, he doesn’t stand down from a fight, but because he wants to conceal as much of his strength from Rumlow’s scrutiny as possible. 

“You gotta understand, big guy,” Rumlow says as he waves the wand through the air, the electrical discharge crackles. “This ain’t personal.”

He strikes out and hits Steve in the small of the back. It spears through his nerves like claws shredding at him. He grits his teeth and chokes on his scream. 

Rumlow leans down and peers at Steve. “Aw, come on now, big guy, you can do better than that.” 

He slaps the prod down again, this time using it as a baton and as a torture device. Steve clenches his teeth as the electricity pulses through him, as his nerves burst in his skin and his muscles go rigid. He heaves in a breath as Rumlow releases him.

“Still, you can do better than that, can’t you?” Rumlow beats down with the prod over and again, so that short, hot electrical blasts hit Steve all over his back and shoulders. As Rumlow bares down with his weapon Steve strikes with the weight of his body, impacting the smaller man with the strength of his shoulders. He can’t stand up because of the chains, but he can do damage. 

With a shoulder to his abdomen, Rumlow stumbles but quickly rights himself again. “Oh that’s good, you’re going to fight back. You think you can fight me?”

“You want to try me?” Steve says. “Why don’t you unlock these chains and we’ll see who is stronger. I’ll even let you keep the prod.”

Rumlow snickers in response. “I like a little sass from my bitches.” He shoves the prod between Steve’s legs slamming it against his scrotum. 

It rips the air from his lungs; when he opens his mouth to scream it is a silent cry. Tears burn his eyes and he throat closes up. Steve pants and gasps for any oxygen at all. Rumlow pulls the stick away, allows him a moment to recover before he attacks again. The pain collapses him onto the cold tile of the floor and he closes his eyes but he sees only the white of pain. 

“You think this is bad, hero-boy?” he says and takes the rod away from Steve’s tender testicles. “It’s gonna get much worse, soldier, much worse.”

“Do what you want, it doesn’t matter,” Steve says through his teeth. His flares out his nostrils as he tries to keep the pain from burning through every sense, every neuron in his brain.

“Oh?” Rumlow says. “Doesn’t it?” He knocks the rod against Steve’s cheekbone and the pulse arcs right through his eye. He’s careful to disable and then move away to keep Steve from retaliating. 

He rolls to the floor and shivers as the spears hit him again and again. He tries to breathe through it, but his lungs fail him. He feels like he has asthma all over again. He doesn’t get a clear idea of what happens next, he only knows that Rumlow continues to assault his body, placing the prod in specific vulnerable places. At one point, Rumlow gets close enough that Steve’s able to swing his body at him, knocking out his knee, causing real damage.

“You son of a bitch,” Rumlow says and smacks Steve in the temple with the rod. It pierces through his brain likes a spear straight through the eye. Before he’s able to recover, Rumlow flicks the prod around and smacks it at the base of Steve’s skull.

He allows a scream to escape and thrashes against his chains to ram his head against Rumlow but misses. The agent swings around and whips the rod against his leg, and then slides it upwards to his bruised sac and penis. 

There’s no way he can stop, he cries out but the sound is mutilated and half pitched in breathless air. A startled screech stops him and, through wet eyes, he looks to find Pepper standing with a half fallen tray, the bowl of food splattered on the floor. Rumlow acknowledges her as he stands up.

“Sorry about that, Ms. Potts, we’re not quite finished yet,” Rumlow says and waits as if he expects her to leave.

She sees the mess of the tray and the mess of Steve, and then straightens her shoulders. “Yes, you’re done, Special Agent, otherwise, Sir Stane would never have sent me to bring Captain Rogers his meal.”

Rumlow considers her, the steely expression, and the defiant gaze. “Seems he’ll be missing his meal.” He kicks at Steve, but he blocks it.

She tilts her head and smiles. It christens her eyes with a bleak kind of malice. “No, he won’t Special Agent, because I know as a part of the First Inner Patrol, you’ll keep your vow and protect the innocent.”

“He’s hardly innocent.”

“Innocent until proven guilty, isn’t that it?” Pepper says and steps over the puddle of stew on the floor. She thrusts the tray at Rumlow. “And now, Special Agent, I expect you will want to be getting that stew for the Captain.”

He hesitates, just a moment, and she uses her guileless smile to her advantage. “Now.”

Looking down at his electric prod, Rumlow releases a pent up breath, switches it off, and then hooks it back to his belt. “As you say, Ms. Potts.”

“Thank you, Special Agent.”

He takes the tray and departs. Once he’s exited, Pepper rushes to his side and kneels next to him. “Captain, Steve? Son of a bitch, what did he do-.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve says and presses his face to the floor. He hates for her to see him like this. “I heal fast.”

“Not from this,” Pepper says and he knows she means beyond the physical. She retrieves a small scarf around her neck, goes to the faucet, taps it, and wets the cloth. Using it as a cold compress she places it to the side of his face. “I could-.”

“No, this is enough,” Steve says. “How’s Tony? Is he okay?”

“Worlds better than you, Captain,” Pepper says. She strokes his hair from his face and her touch is tender, soft, and he leans into it. She pats his face and side with the wet cloth, rewetting it several times. She wants to use it on his groin but she stops and waits for his permission.

“Just,” he says and struggles onto his knees. “Just place it on the back there, I’ll sit on it.”

She nods and wets it again before putting it behind him. Easing down, he hisses and squeezes his eyes closed. 

“Where are we?”

“Outside of the Inner Belts,” she says. “We’re stopping to pick up someone at the Way Station here and then floating in. We have to wait for their arrival first, and then it should take a little over a week or so for our final descent.”

He swallows and it is thick and sticks in his throat. “Over a week.” 

Her hand on his shoulder, she says, “I’ll get them to stop. They won’t do this again to you.”

“I’m not sure that you can,” Steve says and hears the footsteps of Rumlow returning. “Just protect Tony, I can take care of myself.”

“It doesn’t look that way, Captain,” Pepper says.

“I’m fine.” He shifts his eyes to the entrance door way and then back to her as a warning.

She gets it immediately, and backs off. Her white shirt is stained but she ignores it as the agent waltzes back in with a tray. He pushes it at her. “Here, you feed him since you’re so insistent on treating a traitor like a respectable citizen.”

Without a word she takes the tray and brings the bowl over to him. “There’s no spoon.” 

“He doesn’t need one,” Rumlov says and watches her. Steve knows he’s gauging just how far she’ll go, just want she’s willing to do for someone of Steve’s class. 

“Put it on the floor, ma’am,” Steve says and pleads with her silently not to do anything stupid.

But Pepper Potts is anything but stupid. “Special Agent Rumlow, as you well know it is our station and our duty to show the lower classes that we understand their plight.” She settles down on the floor with Steve and lowers the bowl to him, holding it up and waiting for him to eat from it.

“You don-.”

“Captain, as one of your superiors, I am showing you how I can be understanding of your plight. Are you willing to disregard my actions, I could ask Special Agent Rumlow to teach you a lesson,” Pepper says. She focuses only on Steve, and pain shines in her eyes, brighter and more brilliant than the agony in his own body.

“No, ma’am, thank you ma’am.” 

As she holds the bowl for him, he dips his head and eats. Mid-way through the meal, she asks Rumlow to get a napkin, and he grumbles in response but fills her request. After Steve finishes, she wipes him clean and then says, “I think your prisoner needs to rest, Special Agent. Don’t you?”

Rumlow fixes his stare at him and says, “For now. See you later, Captain.”

They both depart and the wall closes down. Steve collapses to the floor and allows the shudders of pain to wreck his body. 

It becomes a game of cat and mouse after that. Rumlow appears and uses various devices on Steve, his favorite being the electrical prod and the Crossbone star – a crossbone brand that heats the metal and sears Steve’s skin until it blackens and flays. Pepper tries to anticipate it and ‘stumbles’ upon them each time. He suspects that Stane gets wind of it and holds her back time and again. He fights and gets in the jabs, but being restrained for so long and cramped into a bound position hinders him.

In the middle of one particularly nasty session after they’ve made their stop at the Way Station, Stane joins them instead of Pepper. 

“Why Captain, you looking a little under the weather. I thought you might like a visitor,” Stane says and steps to the side as Rumlow lays off the Crossbone star. He peers up at Stane only to see him move to reveal his guest.

He doesn’t think he can take it when Natasha stands next to Stane, her arms crossed, her bearing arrogant and unapproachable.

“Natasha?” He knows he should just keep his mouth closed, but it has been too many days of pain, and too many hours not knowing what’s happened to Tony to stop himself. He only has so much self-control. 

“He’s looking particularly gaunt.” Natasha says and while it could be considered statement of caring concern, it is said more as if she’s making a scientific observation. 

“Yes, yes he is,” Rumlow agrees and seems infinitely pleased with himself. 

“You’ve done well, Colonel Rhodes will be pleased.”

“Hell if I care if that -.”

Natasha raises her finger in warning. “I suggest you think about what you’re going to say, Agent, and who you’re thinking about saying it to before you mouth off.”

Rumlow bows once and then straightens his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am.” As Rumlow walks around Natasha to the exit, she looks over her shoulder and says, “Nice work, Special Agent.” 

Rumlow only smiles in return and then leaves. 

She turns back to him but Stane still hulks over them. “I’d like some time alone with the prisoner, Sir Stane.”

“I’m not so sure-.”

“Sir Stane, this is Main Chamber business, do you think that Secretary Pierce wants to report to the Main Chamber you weren’t cooperative?”

Every word slices into him and he bites back his revulsion that she played him so well. He’d known she had a shaded past, that many people didn’t trust her. He wonders if Bucky had any inkling, and then it hits him that Bucky – his crew – where are they? What did she do with them? The dread eats away at him, devours what little hope he kindled over the last days.

Stane coughs once and excuses himself. No one else is in the room and she crosses it, folding her arms over her chest and studies him. “You had quite a good run there, everyone expected that you would fall from grace a lot sooner than you did, Captain Rogers.”

“Natasha,” he says and it is more to himself then to her. He’s trying to calculate, figure how she could have been with his crew for so long and he never suspect that she was an agent for the Main Chamber. The only clue had been that she didn’t have a debt, but he thought she hung onto them for Bucky’s sake. “Did you even care about him?”

“Who?”

He glowers at her.

“Oh, yes, Bucky. Dear, dear, pathetic Bucky.” She shrugs. “Everyone has a weakness. Lost abused dogs are mine.”

“And the rest of my crew? What did you do with them?”

“At this point, Captain I would be careful what you ask.”

“I know they’re watching me, I’m not a fool,” Steve hisses, tugging at the chains. No matter how hard he’s tried, he hasn’t been able to break them. His main objective lately has been to crack the actual wall of his cage. Unfortunately, Rumlow has keep him injured enough to put him in a stupor of pain when he has any time alone. 

“Listen, your crew? Inconsequential,” she says. “That motley band is useless and not of any interest to the Main Chamber, at the moment.”

Does that mean they survived her? Did she just slip away? Or does it mean they are so inconsequential she killed them all. He watches as she continues, as her hard lines and husky voice fills the cell. “The Main Chamber is going to find you guilty of treason, you walked right into that one. They’ve been looking for a way to bring your down and tarnish your image for quite a while now. You supplied them quite well.”

“Glad I could oblige.”

She smiles and there’s something familiar about it that hurts. “Right now, all they want is Tony. That’s all. But Stane has a problem, he needs you to tell Tony to go.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Stark is refusing to go to his sponsor. He won’t leave the ship when we land.”

He shrugs and it rips at the burn and flayed skin along his back. “Seems you have enough muscle to get that job done without me.”

She chuckles and shakes her head. Her hair is now curly, the straight strands abandoned for the more alluring look. “Sure we can get him out, we can hand deliver him to the Main Chamber, but if Stark decides not to cooperate, then we all look bad.”

“Sorry, I suppose you’ll have to live with it,” Steve says.

“We could hurt him,” Natasha says and he knows she’s baiting him.

“You could.”

“Or we could hurt you even more,” Natasha says.

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve agrees.

“Not a very good one.”

“The bad kind usually aren’t,” Steve says and works at his bindings again, even though it’s a futile exercise. “Why don’t you tell me your game, Natasha. You know I won’t give you an inch.”

“Old, Captain, that’s out of date,” she says.

“Just like everything about me.”

She quiets as she regards him. “They’re going to kill you, Steve. You were getting too popular with the masses, it’s dangerous for the Main Chamber to see someone lorded over them. You’ve become bigger, and more important on the Rag-nets. This whole fiasco with the Chromes was the in they were looking for. You walked right into it, as if it was a set up. And now, you need someone to advocate for you.”

“And it’s going to be you?” 

“No,” she says and catches his glance. “It’ll be Stark. He’s the only one who can save you now. But they aren’t going to save you if you just let Stark stay on board and not cooperate.”

“Like I said, you have the muscle to get him to move.”

“Like I said, that’s the point of it. The Main Chamber needs him to cooperate.”

“For what? What does he have that they want?” Steve watches as her face remains impassive, like a stone. She’s good, she’s very good. “What is going on Natasha?”

“Think about it, Steve, his life might depend on it, because yours surely does,” Natasha says and starts to saunter away. Before she ducks through the door, she peeks back in and says, “You know I heard the Inner Belts aren’t so bad these days.”

“No?” He has no idea what she’s getting at.

“No, I hear it’s getting to be a nice place; they’ve reintroduced some species from Earth there. It could be nice for Stark, a nice place to hang. You should convince him.” 

He shakes his head, what the hell is she talking about?

“You know, I hear that there might be falcons about,” she says and winks at him before disappearing.

Shortly after, the wall slams down and he’s left in the cell alone and cold to contemplate what’s to come next.


	22. Chapter 22

Steve spits out the blood and, raising his lip, snarls at Rumlow. The man curses him as he holds a hand to the nose Steve managed to bash in. His assailant kicks at Steve, but somehow, Steve’s able to deflect it with a bent shoulder, protecting his vulnerable stomach. Rumlow grabs his hair and yanks but, at the same time, a voice calls out, “Now, that’s enough.”

“Son of a bitch just broke my nose,” Rumlow says and whacks Steve across the back with the electric prod. It feels like nothing, only numbness now. He doesn’t actually remember what pain is supposed to feel like – it has become his mistress. It reminds him he’s still breathing, it reminds him to breathe.

“Well, good for him, shows he has some spunk left,” Stane says as he walks into view. Rumlow moves to strike again and Stane halts him. “I need to speak with Captain Rogers.”

Hesitating for only a few seconds, Rumlow clears his throat and adjusts his shoulders. “Good, sir. If you need anything else?”

“I’m afraid your service here is just about done, Agent. We land in less than an hour.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my report in,” Rumlow says with a sharp bow and exits. 

Stane waits, watching him, studying him as Steve crouches on the floor. At this point it is impossible to stand. He’s been bent over for weeks, with his arms never released from their interlocked shackles. He attempted yanking his wrist and thumb out of their sockets, but the wrist manacle automatically molded around his deformed wrist. It’s been dislocated for days, Steve’s not sure how long, since the daily cycle varies and the delivery of any food is questionable. By the growth of his beard, it has been well over ten days since he’s been locked in the cell, hunched over barely able to move his legs in the cramped quarters.

He peers up at Stane who has a chair brought in and lounges back on it like he’s playing a poker game; he might very well be doing just that. Steve focuses on the man with his large gut of a belly and his bald head. He oozes greed.

“I have a proposition for you, Captain Rogers.”

“I’m not going to help you,” Steve says, and he can still taste the blood from the kick to the mouth by Rumlow. 

“Sure you are,” Stane says. “Because you care, you want to make sure that little whore you’ve taken a liking to stays safe.”

“You’ve sold him to Ultron, he can never be safe,” Steve hisses as blood splatters out of his mouth. 

“You’re funny, and also sad in many ways,” Stane says. He scrubs at his thick beard and leans forward. “I need a little help convincing the wart to give me the plans to that tech embedded in his chest.”

“Why would you need that?” Steve says, he isn’t playing along, but he needs the intel.

“Why? I’ll tell you why, because it’s revolutionary. It can control those little nanobots in his chest, keep them from moving. Can you imagine what that kind of technology would do in this day and age? Can you imagine how controlling bots and advance tech would make you king?”

“I’m not imagining anything but how I’m going to punch you in the face.”

“Oh, Captain,” Stane sits back as if he’s actually intimidated. “So violent. I heard, even as a warrior, you picked the more peaceful path. Subdued your enemies, not kill them.”

“For some people resorting to the most basic actions is the only way to teach them a lesson.”

“Well, that really hasn’t worked for you has it?” Stane stands up and walks behind his chair, clasping the back while considering Steve. “You’ve been locked in that position for a good two weeks, actually a little more than that, do you even think you’ll be able to walk, to move your arms? Do you think you could come close to protecting Tony in your current state?” 

He’s not wrong. In response, Steve straightens up as much as he can which proves to be not very convincing. The struggle to stretch out his legs in a confined area that doesn’t allow for it, added to that the chain making it impossible to stand to his full height has been a battle. Nevertheless, he pulls off squaring his shoulders without cringing from the pain streaking up and down his arms from the constrained position as well as the many wounds. 

“Very good, Captain, now let’s see what we can do. What kind of deal with can come to?” Stane says.

“No deals,” Steve says.

“Are you so sure?” Stane raises his hands and snaps his fingers. The entrance way opens and two guards strong arm Tony into the room. In mid-sentence Tony rants at them but gasps to silence when he sees Steve.

“God damn it, what the hell-?” He rushes to the cell but the containment field sizzles on and he’s nearly caught in its electrical output before he stumbles to a stop. 

“Tony, don’t,” Steve says and cannot imagine what a wreck he must present. His lips are coated with blood, his body bruised and burnt, his beard and hair a mess and filthy. “Tony.”

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Tony lashes out, his hands fisted at his sides. 

Though he’s in better shape that Steve, Tony definitely hasn’t been to a picnic during the ride to the Inner Belts. His hair is just as dirty as Steve’s, his face is hollowed out, sucken, like he hasn’t eaten in days. With a critical eye, Steve spies the greenish, yellow tinge of faded bruises around Tony’s neck as if someone tried to strangle him. He yanks at the chains to no avail.

Stane walks up with hands in pockets and says, “Tony, why don’t you have a seat.”

“What the fuck did you do to him?”

Stane nods once and the guard converge on Tony, grabbing him, jostling him even as he fights to the chair. They shove him down and when he tries to rise, threaten him with electrical prods like Rumlow has used on Steve repeatedly and without prejudice.

“Tony, please, stop,” Steve says and his voice sounds ragged, broken. He can take the treatment, the beatings, but he can’t see Tony like this, he can’t know – and it suddenly hits him that Tony will be subjected to Ultron and all his depravity if Steve cannot find a way to get free. He heaves against the chains again and screams.

“Calm yourself, Captain, we need to come to an agreement and we don’t have much time.” 

When Steve huffs out a breath and gazes at Tony, all he sees is the blank stare of isolation and defeat. He won’t let this happen, he has to figure out a way to save Tony, save them both.

“What do you want?” Steve asks.

“Tell this little piss ant to give me the data on the arc reactor,” Stane says. He pokes at Tony, hitting him square where the reactor sits in his chest. Tony’s dead eyes do not react, he keeps his eyes fixated on the middle distance. Steve recognizes it as a defense mechanism.

“I can’t make Tony do anything he doesn’t want to do,” Steve says.

“Perhaps seeing Rumlow work you over one last time, and I do mean last, would be sufficient.”

Tony doesn’t move, he’s silent like the grave.

“Tony knows I would never want him to do that, I would rather die than have him give you something he doesn’t want you to have.” Steve keeps his gaze fixed on Tony, waiting for some reaction, but Tony’s closed and, he realizes, seething, angry, about to explode. “I warn you, Sir Stane, leave off.”

“Bring the containment field down and call Rumlow back in, I want to see what else you can do with that electric prod, where else he can stick it,” Stane sneers, his nearly perfect façade falling apart.

Rumlow saunters back in the room even before the field is wiped and Tony launches himself at the agent. They tumble down in a tangle of legs and arms as Tony grapples to get his hands around Rumlow’s throat. He’s far outmatched, though, considering the agent’s training. It only takes a few minutes for Rumlow to pin Tony to the floor and bash his face once.

Only Stane’s yell stops the altercation. “Not the damned face, he has to be presented to the Main Chamber today.” 

Rumlow backs off and two other guard hustle Tony back into the chair. He fights them all the way, but their burly strength holds him off.

“Now, Captain, can you tell Sir Stark it would be a good idea to give me what I want?” Stane says and waits. He’s a man with little patience as the clock ticks by and they approach their final destination. Steve reads it in his eyes, his demeanor; he’s desperate. He needs this from Tony before he loses control of him.

The laugh starts deep in Steve’s throat, it chokes him, and he has to fight off the coughing. Yet, the laugh continues, bubbling up like a hysterical mantra. They might think him mad, but he understands – at least a tiny part- of Stane’s concern. 

Folding his arms over his chest, Stane says, “You want to tell us the joke, Captain? The tension has been a little high around here, we could all use a good laugh.”

Steve chokes back the laughter, it catches in his throat like a hook from a fishing line – spiked and sharp. His eyes water as he looks up at Stane. “You stupid son of a bitch, you ruined the Corp, didn’t you? And now you’re desperate to get what you can out of Tony before you lose complete control of him. You made a damned mistake, selling him out to Ultron. You sold him out and for the next five years you won’t have access to him. You’re screwed. You stupid-.”

In seconds the containment field drops and Rumlow swings hard. The electrical prod hits him in the back of the neck. He falters and falls, his chin clipping the floor, causing his teeth to click shut. When he’s finally able to look back at them, he sees Tony – his eyes are locked on Steve. He can read him clearly, and knows he’s hit the nail on the head. 

“Let’s not be too hasty,” Stane says. “Tony?”

Only the movement of his eyes shows that Tony pays him any heed. 

“Tony,” Stane starts and places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “You’ve always meant a lot to me. For years, when you were younger, and in need I was there, wasn’t I?”

Tony turns back to Steve with a pained barren expression. It hurts Steve more than the physical abuse. Tony mouths his name, and Steve feels his heart drop. Stane drones on as Steve examines every nuance of Tony, every molecule and twitch, every line and rumple of his clothing.

Tony wears a simple tunic with jeans both of which look stained and dirty, as if he’s been in them for days. The bruising around his neck is old, days at least, probably a week. He’s lost weight and sleep, his usual olive skin tone dulls to a raw sallow in the light. But what impresses Steve the most, what claws into his heart, and tears out pieces is that he can point to the moment, the second, Tony decides to concede. 

Over Stane’s monologue, Steve grits out, “Don’t, don’t you do it.”

Stane drops to silence.

“Steve,” Tony says and, there, in his eyes is everything Steve needs to know. He pleads with unspoken despair; Steve recognizes a man about to surrender, give up, fall down to his knees, and beg for mercy.

“No, don’t you do it,” Steve says again, the breath stolen from his lung as he rasps out his appeal.

“Sir?” Rumlow says with a raised hand that clutches the prod. 

Stane holds up his hand and steps closer to Tony. “Tony, I’ll release him, give him some time to heal before he has to be presented to the Main Chamber.”

“You’ll turn me over when we land. I have less than an hour before you turn me over,” Steve says.

Stane grumbles and then says, “We have hours before your presentation to the Main Chamber, I can put it off, you know I can allow him some extra time. I’ll even let you be with him.”

“Don’t, Tony, don’t,” Steve says and shuffles as far as the chains will allow him, he’s no closer to Tony. “Please, Tony.”

“Can you save him?” Tony says in barely a murmur.

Stane offers a smile that reminds Steve of a predator cat just finishing a meal. “If you give me the technology I need, I could bargain a deal.”

“He has the technology, he can bargain a deal himself,” Steve growls.

Tony glances at Steve and then back at Stane, he narrows his eyes and Steve knows he’s calculating, figuring, he’s in the middle of something big and Stane has no idea. “Let him free and I’ll give you what you need.”

“No,” Steve yells. “No, Tony, don’t. Do not.”

“Steve,” Tony says and there’s a peaceful surrender about him.

“You have the tech, it’s yours. He can’t do anything-.”

Stane steps in front of Tony and hulks over Steve. “You don’t seem to understand. Tony is a Courtesan and, as such, and with his license in my hands, I do the bargaining and the deals. He’s nothing but meat to them. Nothing but a body to be used.”

Tony’s shoulders sink. “I’ll do what you want, Obie, but you have to promise me-.”

“No, Tony, do _not_ , do not betray me.” Steve thrashes against the chains. “If you do this, you will betray me. Do you understand? Do you get it? I don’t want my freedom if it’s selling your soul for him.”

“Give me a pad,” Tony says. He disregards Steve entirely as Stane pulls out a pad and hands it over to Tony. Tony grimaces as he takes the pad, as if he doesn’t like to be handed things. He taps on the screen, going through a routine.

All the while, Steve screams and begs, threatens and cajoles. All to no use. 

“It’s done,” Tony says and shoves the pad back at Stane. “Now, free him.”

Stane pokes at the pad a few times, studies it for several minutes, and then grins the smile of a predator. “There we go, now that wasn’t hard, was it? Agent Rumlow, please release the prisoner.”

“I’m gonna have to protest that, Sir Stane.”

As Stane starts to answer Natasha walks in and nods. “You can release him into my custody.”

“You promised, Obie,” Tony says, a hysterical, almost crazed fierceness radiates off of him.

Stane weighs the two, but there really isn’t a score card to use at all. Natasha, as a representative from the Main Chamber, wins every time. 

“That’s fine with me,” Stane says and Tony leaps from his seat about to protest or throw himself at Stane – the guards shoulder him back to his chair. 

“Release him,” Natasha says.

“I don-.” Rumlow flicks on the electrical prod.

“Release him. I want him able to walk in twelve hours. The fact that he’s been bound for over two weeks and beaten is going to make that a miracle,” Natasha says. “Serum and all.”

Rumlow hits his comm link and orders the chains to unlock. He hunches over Steve as the manacles click open, and then he yanks them off with a graceless motion. It scrapes at Steve’s skin and his mutilated wrists. When the chains fall away and the collar is removed, Steve pitches forward, not expected his weight to throw him off balance. He tries to shift his arms to break his fall but the rotation of his shoulders sears through him like bone grating against bone. He grunts and heaves against the pain. 

Although he’s done his best to keep his muscles moving during the forced incarceration, nothing prepares him for the revolt of his joints, ligaments, and tendons against every movement. Hands press against his shoulders, knuckle into his biceps and muscles as other hands firmly massage his legs. It takes him a while before he can balance out the pain with the relief driven by the kneading against his flesh.

Opening his eyes, he spies Natasha over him. She’s intent on his upper body as Tony works the muscles of his legs, and hips.

Natasha meets his gaze and says, “Can you walk? We can bring a cart around.”

He swallows, measuring her, trying to figure out her game. “Um, maybe?”

“Rumlow, get me clothes and a cart. We need to get the Captain presentable,” Natasha orders. He doesn’t see Rumlow follow the direction but soon Natasha and Tony hoist Steve onto his legs and usher him onto a cart for moving cargo. It is a bare flatbed type truck cart with no luxuries for hauling human cargo. He could probably walk, but decides against letting that tidbit of information out. 

A small towel is tossed over him, enough to cover his groin but not enough to conceal the beatings and injuries covering his torso and head. As Natasha grabs the handle of the cart he hears Tony saying, “I gave you what you want, now, leave me be.”

He joins them with a look of resolution, but also loss about him. He bends down for a moment, and says, “Bring him to my quarters. I’ll help him get ready.”

Natasha considers them, and then steps to the side. “Agent Rumlow, please escort Courtesan Stark and Captain Rogers to Sir Stark’s quarters. Bring the guards. You are permitted to use lethal force on the Captain, if need be. If you need to remind Sir Stark that Mister Hogan and the children would make a nice sale to the newly legal slave markets here in the Inner Belts.”

Before Steve can question Tony, Rumlow wheels the cart toward its destination with Tony trailing behind the group. Along the way Steve notes the corridors of the luxury liner, the surveillance equipment, the weapons trained on the crew itself. He counts paces and records the type of lighting, and the safety protocols listed on the walls. He accumulates as much knowledge as possible from his reclined position on the cart. He won’t move and shift to make himself more comfortable, he doesn’t want to give any of his strength away. 

Once they enter Tony’s rooms the guards spread out and flank them as Rumlow brakes the cart. “I ain’t helping you get soldier boy cleaned up, you can do that on your own.”

Tony doesn’t respond, he only shuffles over to Steve’s side and, with hand gripped under Steve’s arm, lifts him into a sitting position. “Can you manage?” Tony points to a small hallway off the main room. “The bathroom is only a few meters away.”

Steve nods and slings his arm over Tony’s shoulders. It aches and protests and it is all Steve can do not to wince in alarm at how very injured he actually is. With stumbling steps, they ease to the bathroom. As soon as they enter it, Rumlow leans in and says, “Hurry it up.”

He makes a point of staring them down and then stepping out of the bathroom. Tony slams his open palm on the door switch to close it. After it slides shut, he backs against it and sighs out his relieve.

Steve staggers to the edge of the tub and settles on it. Tony races to his side. “Sorry, sorry, he’s just-.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Tony only laughs and it digs rivers of ice into Steve’s heart. “Did he hurt me? Damn it, look at you, you’re the fucking walking dead here.” He twists on the faucets of the tub. “Hold on.”

Jumping up, he hits the main comm link and says, “Bring Captain Rogers food, and lots of it. And only the best, whatever Stane is having tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” a voice replies. 

As the bath water fills the tub, Tony squirts in some oils he retrieves from the main room. This is nothing like the Commando. It feels more like the hotels he’s seen on the Rag-nets. Nothing like living on the brink of poverty, or on the fast edge of debt. 

“Come on, now, do you need me to help you in?” Tony asks.

There are a whirlwind of questions storming through his brain, but the bath beckons and he succumbs to the need. “First, I need you to pop my wrists back in place.”

He shows the deformed wrist joints.

“Fuck, I’m going to kill Rumlow.”

“It wasn’t him, I did this trying to get out of my cuffs. I’m afraid they healed around the dislocated joint. You need to force it back into place.”

“I’m not a doctor, I can-.”

Steve drags his hands up to Tony’s face, he can’t move them well, they’re more like claws. “Please, you can and you will. We need to do this, so we can talk.”

“Get in the tub, then,” Tony says and stands up to strip. 

Steve slides into the tub and the water, warm and fragrance gives him a heady sensation that lulls him to relax. The tub is huge and Tony slips in right beside him. “Just do your best.” Steve raises his hands and waits.

Grimacing, Tony feels along the joint, it hurts but the sensation of the oils against his abraded and wounded skin pings as a counterpoint. “Where’d you learn how to dislocate your own wrists?” 

“Back before the war, it happened. I got used to popping it back in.”

Tony eyes him and then goes back to work. “Someone in some alley dislocated your wrists.”

“Maybe, just-.” His breath escapes him as Tony forces the joint back into place. It isn’t easy because the tendons and ligaments wrapped around the joint have already healed into place around the deformed joint. It hurts like hell and Steve curls against it, biting against the scream perched on his lips. 

“One more,” Tony says and it’s done.

The room around him funnels to darkness but Tony keeps talking him through the pain, in slow undulating waves, brings him back. “There you go, back with me?” 

Blinking, he can only nod because the agony robs him of his voice. Through the unshed tears, he finds Tony and within his eyes there’s an utter sorrow deep and grinding like a war machine, unrelenting and devastating. 

“I’m going to get you out of this,” Tony says. “You’ll see. I think I have a good way to do it.”

“What?” he says as he finally finds his voice. “I’m not going anywhere without you, Tony. This can still work.”

Tony presses his finger up against Steve’s mouth and shakes his head, indicating the place is monitored. “We’re done. I did what I did earlier to save you, don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

“You did what you wanted to do,” Steve replies and it hurts to see the sting in Tony’s expression as he speaks. “I told you not to do it. I refuse to leave you.”

Tony wraps a hand around Steve’s neck, cupping him and placing his forehead at the juncture of his shoulder. “It’s already done.”

After his whispered words, Steve falls into a reverie of silent betrayal. He loves Tony, but cannot see why he would sacrifice everything. He cannot understand it. While Tony bathes him, his hands softly working out the knots, strains, and stresses in Steve’s muscles, Steve stays quiet, pliant and distant. It isn’t as if he wants to ignore Tony, but he needs to figure out a strategy to save them both. If he can stall for time, he might be able to heal enough so that they can escape. There are problems with the plan, regardless.

As if he reads Steve’s mind, Tony says, “You realize the only reason Stane is allowing us time together is that he’s watching us, listening in. He’s looking for more intel.”

“I figured as much,” Steve says and hopes it also is the reason for Tony’s slight remoteness. Even as they share a bath, Steve feels like a stranger under Tony’s reserved eyes.

“I’ve already given him everything I plan to, Captain,” Tony says as he finishes washes Steve’s hair. 

Is this a confession, is it a plea? Steve isn’t sure. “What did they mean about the children?” Steve says as Tony helps him out of the bath, gets him situated on the closed toilet so that he can save the two weeks’ worth of beard. Tony slings a towel around his own waist and throws one over Steve’s groin. It is fast, efficient, and completely clinical. It sends shivers down Steve’s spine.

“I don’t think you want to know,” Tony says. There are marks along Tony’s flank as if he’s been kicked in the ribs several times and Steve reaches out to touch them only to have Tony hitch away from him.

“Tell me?” Steve asks.

Tony chooses to answer the previous question. “Oh the kids, well, Stane has Happy and the lot of them, except for Peter, in his custody over on Parson’s Point. It isn’t good. Don’t worry he won’t treat them bad or anything. But that’s another bargaining chip.”

“What? What about Peter?” Steve says, bracing as Tony touches a tender swelling around his eye.

“You’re going to have to stop talking if you want a decent shave,” Tony says and scrapes the razor up Steve’s cheek. “Peter is on board here.”

Steve sits up, knocking Tony’s hand, nicking his skin. “What?” 

“Listen, Stane has us. He has us good. He’s using everything as leverage. He’s fucked up the company so much that he’s about to end up on a Debtor’s moon or some shit. He’s desperate.” Tony leans in and continues to shave Steve. Even though there’s efficiency about Tony’s actions, the light touch of his fingers against his injured swollen face, his cracked lips, and split chin is like a tender ballet. 

As Tony cleans the razor, Steve asks, “Where is Peter?”

“Don’t worry, he’s okay, hasn’t been hurt,” Tony says. He concentrates on cleaning Steve’s neck.

Steve sits up, staring at Tony – as if he can force him to tell the truth. “The same way you haven’t been hurt?” 

“No, Peter hasn’t been hurt. Pepper’s seen to it,” Tony replies. He gently pushes Steve back so that he can continue the shave. “Don’t you think Stane’s figured it all out? He has us. You can’t do anything, because he’s holding Pepper and Peter as leverage, plus all the kids back at the Point. We have nothing. I’m going to Ultron and you can’t stop me.”

It dawns on Steve then, that the only thing holding Tony back from going to Ultron all this time had been Steve. Stane had the leverage to push for it with Peter, Pepper, and the children with Happy, but Tony may have sacrificed them all. It shocks Steve, to know that Tony might have willingly given it all up to save Steve – and now that he thinks Steve will be safe, he’s sacrificing himself.

Steve stops the argument, because he knows Tony, understands his stubborn brilliance. He doesn’t have ages of experience with Tony, but he does recognize the quizzical mind, the fast pace it moves at, how he’s analyzed every angle and can’t find a way out. Except for one – one that Tony hasn’t counted on – and Steve is going to use. 

He knows he can’t attack directly. They could fight their way off the ship. Steve will never heal in time for that, and, with Pepper and Peter as collateral damage, Steve cannot risk it. He needs to find another way, he needs to stall for time. 

As Tony finishes up, Steve watches him, checking to make sure he’s physically fit. He realizes there are old minor injuries fading, but he also needs to know if there the other, hidden wounds.

A tap on the door interrupts them. “Foods here and we’re landing in three minutes.”

Tony only nods and doesn’t rush to get buckled in. They really don’t have to, considering this is a luxury liner; docking should be a breeze. Raising a hand, Steve presses against Tony’s ribs. He hisses and jumps away.

“What the hell-?”

“Bruised or broken?”

“Just leave it, Steve, it doesn’t matter.” Tony tosses him another towel and opens the door. “We don’t have much time. Come out and get something to eat.”

He tucks the towel around his waist, and, with hobbled steps, follows Tony out to the main room. His arms ache, his elbows and joints feel loose like a stringed puppet. He can’t use his hands to steady his balance due to the healing of his wrists. Tony comes back and, without a word, gently shifts under Steve’s arm and guides him to a chair next to the table where the food is laid out. 

“Sit, eat.” 

Steve glances at the guards, but he needs to focus on the task at hand – and that is healing. Fumbling he scoops up some of the bread and cheeses to start. Tony slaps his hand away and loads up a plate.

“You might as well eat. The introduction to the Main Chamber for me won’t be for a few hours.” 

“How can you be so blasé about it? Like it doesn’t matter?” Steve says and the guards stand like stone sculptures placed around the room. He counts six in the room, probably an equal number outside the room. He has no idea where Rumlow might be. He could easily take them on any given healthy day, but he’s injured and lost some of his mass during his incarceration. He probably only had one small bowl of food every thirty six or so hours during his imprisonment.

“Don’t do this,” Tony says. “Don’t ask me questions and force me to say anything. This thing is over, Captain, over.”

His words cut, it feels like he’s kicking his dog, like Steve is his dog and he’s tired of him. He can’t read Tony, his eyes are shielded, glossed over with a distance in them. It’s frightening in a horrifying way that Steve hasn’t felt since the Covenant disease came through the Rim and stole his mother from him. 

He remembers those hours, watching her suffer, and sitting vigil by her bedside. He recalls the feel of the chilled breeze from the window. It wasn’t open, but the cracks, the crevices around the shoddy sill allowed the winter to seep into their flat. He lie half on the bed, clutching her hand and wondering how he would bear it. 

As he watches Tony fill up the plate again for him, as Tony ladles the soup into his mouth, and pours him some real coffee, he can only think about how cold his mother’s hand felt against the frigid air in that room, the death room. 

When Tony lifts up another forkful of meat and waits for Steve to open his mouth, he catches sight of Tony’s naked expression. Despair would be too easy of a word to describe it. Anguish, hopelessness come to mind, but truly do not depict the ruination of his features.

 _You’re my ruination._

Tony had said it so many times, and Steve had allowed it to come true. He cannot protest, his aching joints feel weak. He only wants to finish it, be done with it. Maybe his dreams of leading a revolution, to change things, were just delusions fed by a need or self-indulgent want to recapture his glory days. 

His stomach turns over and he pushes the food away.

“What? You have to eat,” Tony says and brings the fork up again.

“No, I’m done,” Steve says and realizes it is in more ways than one. 

As Tony furrows his brows and starts to ask, Natasha walks into the rooms with Rumlow trailing her. She studies them for some time before stating, “Clothes will be brought up, soon. Captain, you are to rest for the next four hours. After which you will be presented to the Main Chamber along with Sir Stark.”

“I’m not supposed to be presented for another six hours,” Tony says.

“Timeline’s changed,” Natasha replies. “Get some rest, you want to look your best for the Rag-nets. They’ll be throwing quite the party for you, Captain.” 

He gauges what she means, if she’s trying to impart some knowledge. When her expression remains impassive, he deflates and the weight of the moment presses down on him. This was supposed to be about a revolution, a change for the better, and now it’s about surrender. Taking a stand against the establishment seems near to impossible.

Instead of approaching him with her directive, Natasha directs Tony. “Have him get some sleep. He needs it.”

“Is that an order?” Tony sounds like a punk on the streets of the Rims. Arrogant and frightened at the same time. He wonders if Tony doesn’t understand that Natasha is playing both sides.

Tilting her head, she considers him and then Rumlow who shifts with anxious energy beside her. “It could be, if you want it to be that way. Do you want it to be that way, Sir Stark?” Her smiles reminds him of a poisonous spider.

Tony slumps back in his seat, swagger and conceit playing on his features. “Maybe, maybe next time, darling. Don’t you worry your pretty ass about it, I’ll get the good Captain to sleep.”

She nearly growls at him, but decides instead to leave him with a fair warning and a smirk. Rumlow follows her out the door. Over the course of the next hours, the world about him feels like he’s walking through muck. Tony attends him but in that clinical way which leaves Steve bereft and ashamed at the same time. The conflicting emotions confuse him, sets him off his game. 

Eventually Tony leads him to the bed notched close to the wall of the room. He drops down on it, not knowing what to do. With a gentle hand on his shoulder, Tony pushes him to lie down. He resists as he watches the guards line the room.

“Sleep, I’m here. No one is going to hurt you,” Tony says and the words fill the empty space that’s been dug deep into his chest.

“Okay,” Steve says and he knows he shouldn’t, he should fight the exhaustion but something drags him downward into the spiral haze of the pain still beating a rhythm over his body.

Tony settles next to him, sitting perched on the edge of the bed. “For what it’s worth, this is not what I intended to happen, not at all.”

Steve feels the ache, the sense of loss grow. Again, it harkens back to when his mother died, and the moments it took for him to accept that he was now alone, and she was gone. Loss, and a sense of displacement – the thought of having lost both parents had left him anchorless. Now the same emotion bubbles up, threatening to overtake him. He’s not sure why. He says, “What did you intend to happen?” He should know, but the off kilter atmosphere takes its toll.

Tony leans over and places a kiss on Steve’s battered cheek. “Now, that would be telling, Captain.” He drifts a hand to Steve’s hair, threads tender fingers along his scalp. “Sleep, my good Captain, what comes next will only serve to terrify us both.”

In the end, he isn’t wrong. In the end, what Steve experiences comes as a new form of agony. He can count the amount of sleep he actually gets in minutes rather than hours. The guards wake him to get him ready for transport. He’s dressed in simple prison pants and a tunic; both are gray in color and of stiff fabric. It scrapes against his injured skin, his bruises and welts. But there are no buttons or ties, which makes it easier since his wrists and hands are still difficult to move. He considers himself lucky that they allow him to dress at all. Tony enters the room in his formal Courtesan wear, though he looks ashen against its brilliant white. Steve finishes dressing, not worried about the presence of the guards as he slips on the pants and tunic. 

Tony crosses the room and sticks out a hand. Steve tightens his resolve, not wanting to take the hand, but he knows he has to keep up appearances. He clasps Tony’s hand.

“It’s been an honor, Captain,” Tony says. “If I’m able, I’ll try and do what I can-.”

“Don’t,” Steve says. He tenses his hand in Tony’s, holding on as if he’s falling, plummeting off a cliff face. “Don’t do anything that might jeopardize you, Tony.”

Tony lays a hand on their intertwined hands. “I think it’s too late for that, don’t you?”

Before Steve’s able to reply, Stane walks in the room. He vibrates with energy like a man who’s just won a big jackpot at a race. Natasha and Rumlow are with him as is Pepper. She stands to the back of the crowd near the door. Steve cannot read her, since she keeps an eye on Tony with a shifting glance to Stane – as if she expects him to lash out at Tony.

It only takes minutes, and it is because Natasha warns him with a stern look, he doesn’t fight the cuffs linking his still swollen wrists together, or the ankle irons. The cuffs clamp together his wrists while the leg irons allow him shortened steps. He’s not sure when he’ll get another chance, but with the children and Pepper as virtual hostages he cannot risk it until he can figure out a different angle.

Stane blabbers on at Tony, but Steve spends his time checking out the number of guards, the different police on deck as they pass from the ship to the docking deck of the Main Bay for the Inner Belts. It is the trip to the Main Chamber that redefines his idea of what misery is. Even after the meal and the scattered sleep he managed, the long haul to the needle like high tower at the center of the city devours every last bit of energy.

They force him to walk the entire way.

All fifteen kilometers. 

The streets of the city, with its lights and blaring roar of life, are lined with row upon row of the Elite class and some of the Wannabes. All of them yell and throw insults at him. Some throw rotten food, hitting him repeatedly. He’s thankful they shuffled Tony off to a transport car along with Pepper and Stane. The guards push him forward, never helping him when he stumbles on legs still too weak from his incarceration, from the repeated blows from the electrical prod and the Crossbone star. He hadn’t eaten enough, or slept enough to fully heal. His body rebels but he fights to keep upright and struggles to move onward to the tower of the Main Chamber.

As a child he used to dream of seeing the Inner Belts, the cluster of planets at the center of Human Space with their Way Stations and mining belts and Living Stations peppered throughout the system. Everyone called it the Dream Stars, everyone wanted to live here. Now, now it is only a nightmare of ugly truths and broken hopes.

Determined, he remains on his feet, scuttling forward with the adamantium chains around his ankles and linked to his bound wrists. He believes there’s something better, he knows there’s still good in this universe and refuses to waste his last moments on the idea that it does not exist. 

Shoulders straighten, he moves forward. The buildings gleam in the high morning light. The metal cityscape feels alive around him, not only with the undulating crowds as they watch his last journey up the hill toward the Main Chamber. But the city itself is alive with its technology buzzing about, turning toward him. Lights and cameras are embedded in the very walls of the buildings, recording everything. The streets shift and change as the traffic flows and crowds move with him. The city isn’t still, but a constant motion of buildings and bodies in a dance of life. 

As he approaches the final long staircase up to the needle tower that holds the Main Chamber, someone throws something heavy at him. It impacts against the back of his neck and he staggers, falling forward, not able to break his fall. He brings his bound wrists up to shield his face from colliding with the concrete, but the jarring contact ricochets through his injured joints and he grunts with renewed agony. 

The mass of people mock him, taunting him to get back on his feet. He pushes up to his knees and then someone grasps his left arm, and another person takes hold of his right arm.

“Captain.”

“Let us help you,” the person on his right says and he looks to find a petite blonde woman assisting him to his feet. 

When he turns he confronts an officer of the First Inner Patrol on his left hand side. “Like Agent 13 said, let us help you.”

Over the hisses of the crowd, Steve says, “I don’t think you want to do that.”

The officer smiles and says, “Yes we do, Captain.”

“Who-?”

“Colonel James Rhodes from the First Inner Patrol, and Agent Sharon Carter formerly of SHIELD, at your service, Captain.”

Steve peers over his shoulder as they hurry him along the street. Rumlow and his ilk scowl at him but don’t interfere. 

“Eyes forward, Captain, we don’t have a lot of time.” 

Steve shuts his mouth, because he’s not sure what’s happening, considering he’d never had a clear chance to figure out Tony’s relationship with Rhodes. Tony trusts him; Rhodes was one of the people Tony identified as suit worthy. Does he have a suit? Did Tony apprise him of the current plan? The plan Steve had been sure would be aborted.

He scans the sky. Natasha hinted about Falcons, now Tony’s friend is at Steve’s side. What the hell is happening?

“Step up, Captain,” Sharon says and guides him up the long wide marble staircase to the center of the Main Chamber. 

Standing at the entrance two doom-bots along with their human counterparts guard the doors. Without a word directed the doors slowly slide open and the doom bots roll to the side. He expects the Colonel and the Agent to usher him into the sanctum of the Corps, but they don’t.

“This is where we leave, Captain. Our duty for the Main Chamber is to escort you to the entrance of the Main Chamber. From here, you are on your own.”

He waits, expecting some covert message, something else. But nothing more happens and Rumlow, who’s followed them up the staircase, shoves him forward with a punch to his back. He spends very little energy on Rumlow, since his first priority is figuring out what the hell Rhodes and Carter wanted with him – only to deliver him to the Main Chamber.

He steps through, careful of his chains. As the doors begin to close, Carter smiles at him and Rhodes salutes, his sleeve revealing the same pattern on his arm that both Pepper and Tony have to call the armor to them. 

The doors close and, for a moment, he’s left in pitch dark. The lights blink on and he inches further in to the outer vestibule. A doom-bot zips in front of him and the inner doors open. There’s nothing beautiful about the architecture or the décor. It is pristine, sterile, and hot steel, silver and white. There is very little color, and he feels out of place and awkward as he follows the way into the Chamber he’d thought he would have a part in taking down. 

The doors close again, and he’s thrown back into complete darkness. He waits. The silence breaks when a voice says his name.

“Captain.”

He turns to face the source. A circle of light appears and in the center of the Main Chamber stands Tony Stark.


	23. Chapter 23

Without thought to the restraints binding him, Steve leaps at Tony and, with bound hands, zeroed on his throat. Tony staggers as Steve impacts and they tumble to the hard black stone floor. Nothing but rage, no sense of justice or reason exists in Steve’s head as he attacks. This man, his beloved, set him up, made him fall in love and risk everything and everyone in his life for an ill-fated, fake plan. 

“You son of a bitch, you did this, you put everyone and everything at risk.” Steve grapples at Tony’s throat. The chains only a minor nuisance. “You made me love you, you made me want to be something special, you made me hope again.”

Tony claws at Steve’s hands, kicks and struggles against his full weight. But Steve has the advantage of kilograms and muscle against Tony’s more wiry form. He coughs and chokes and Steve squeezes.

“Call off the guards on the kids, call off the guards on Peter. You son of a bitch, I will do anything you ask, just call them off,” Steve says. Tears, uncalled and uncontrolled, smear down his cheeks as he slams against Tony, wishing only to be free of the memories, the hopes, the dreams, the love he still has for this cruel being. He feels it then, love and regret a mixture of tastes so sweet and so bitter it bites at his soul. He throws Tony off, and stumbles away his chains caught up in Tony’s legs.

He heaves in breath after breath. “You, how could you? How?” Steve closes his eyes and yanks at the chains. “Just do it, just do it. I won’t stop you. I only ask that you don’t hurt the innocent.”

Tony rasps next to him, tangled in Steve’s chains as he rubs his throat and says in a raw voice, “I didn’t, Steve, I didn’t.” With one hand on his throat he holds up the other, but not as a defense, as a sign of surrender.

“How could you?” Steve says. He’s aware he’s in deep, that any minute now the guards will converge upon them, Rumlow will beat him, possibly maim him this time. “I don’t- I don’t understand, why? How could you?”

Tony shakes his head and his eyes are wild with it, nearly crazed with denying it. “Captain, Steve listen to me. I got here ten minutes before you did. They put me in the room and told me to stay here. They’re trying to set us against one another, you have to believe me. Use that famous strategist brain of yours. You know I wouldn’t do this to you. And I’m this close to being insulted that you would think crap about me.”

Steve’s breathing evens out as he forces his mind to settle, to think rationally, logically. He’s a strategist, a tactician, he can follow the threads and untangle the knots. Yet, the room around him shimmers as if he’s about to get sick, and he needs to bend over, allow the sensation to leave him. He’s not operating at hundred percent, not yet. When he feels a hand on his shoulder, he knocks Tony away.

“Captain, my Captain,” Tony says in a soft tone. “Please, I’m not- you know me.”

The words stated so plainly, so plaintively touch him and he considers Tony, the truth of the situation. “Tony?”

Tony rushes to his side and folds him close. “Yes, I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”

His chains clank as he moves and wants so desperately to be able to hold Tony, to beg forgiveness, to have this whole damned nightmare end. He wants to apologize, he wants to hold Tony. Before he can say anything, string together the fragmented thoughts scattered in his brain, the large door to the east side of the room swings open. He cannot make out who comes through, because they are thrown in silhouette. 

Following the first, a second person comes in and the door creaks to close. Tony clasps him close, as if his body might suffice as a shield against what is to come. The newcomers are still in the dark when one of them says, “That was almost too dramatic, very sweet, and very trying.”

“What the hell?” Tony says and stands up, blocking Steve’s view.

Stumbling to his feet, Steve joins Tony and his fears are confirmed as the lights come on and their visitors are revealed. Secretary Alexander Pierce and to his left – Loki.

“Damn it,” Steve mutters under his breath. They’ve been played. So well, so perfectly, he almost hates Thor. He should hate Thor, for setting him up so completely. How stupid and naïve could he be? 

“Yes, very touching,” Pierce says and adjusts his integrated glasses, an apparatus attached to the skull orbitals to interface with computers and nets throughout Human Space. “Captain, you played along beautifully.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Steve says and tries his damnedest to keep up his neutral expression, though he’s sinking into the murk inside. He needs to clear his head, he needs to understand the players and their parts. This is his one chance. “If you’re referring to the fact I knew that Loki was a two timing-.”

“Ah,” Loki says. “Please, dear Captain, you followed my brother’s lead who I may say is easily lead himself by the nose. He’s foolish and not very bright. He thought so highly of you, getting him to ask you for assistance was child’s play.”

In some tiny way, it is a relief to know that Thor has been played, and has not played Steve. “So this whole thing was to do what? Capture me?” Steve says and jangles the chains. “You already had me with the debt, I’m not sure what the point of killing all of those people at the Chromes was.” He’s stalling for time, scanning the area, searching for ways out for Tony. It’ll be impossible for him to escape due to the chains, but Tony can still get to safety. Tony isn’t moving, isn’t looking for a way out, but a strange calmness has come over him.

Loki smiles and it reminds Steve of a cat of prey, the ones he read about in the long ago fairy tales. The god of mischief has a decidedly pleased look on his face. He walks in front of the Secretary and says, “It’s all about opportunity, Captain, I contacted the Secretary some time ago, he told me to do what I could. Make it big, make it lasting, and show that the Captain cannot be trusted, is just another person after power. As the Secretary has stated, you played along beautifully. When I found out we were going to be at the Chromes – everything else fell into place.”

“We don’t need your monologue,” Tony says with a sneer. “Why is it evil people don’t get it that normal nice people don’t get two fucks about their crazy ass minds.”

“The Captain needed to be taken down, for the good of Human Space,” Pierce says. “In order to build a really better world, sometimes means tearing the old one down, and that makes enemies. What we’re trying to do here is to ensure that those enemies don’t latch onto an out dated, worthless symbol of the past, Captain. Surely, you can understand that order and chaos are two sides of the same coin. Spending that coin means ensuring that one must balance the other. You bring a certain amount of chaos to the equation-.”

“What equation?” Tony spits. 

Loki jumps in and answers, “That would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

Tony lurches forward but Steve blocks him with his bound hands. Instead, Tony attacks with his words. “You’re telling me you wanted the Captain out of your way because he was a threat to you.”

Pierce shares a smile with Loki and then shakes his head. “Not me, Sir Stark, but the Main Chamber.”

“I thought-.”

Pierce points upward and then laughs a little. “No, you’ll meet the Main Chamber soon enough.” He walks over to the consoles that lines the circular walls of the room. Each console is discrete with recesses next to it that are in shadow. Using a retinal scan he interfaces with the net and then activates the elevator. “I think it’s about time.”

Steve calculates chances and cause-effect ratios, he weighs his options but as he does, Tony indicates with a slight shake of his head to not chance it. 

“Up you go then,” Pierce says and motions them to the center pillar of the room. The wall shifts downward to reveal a door to the lift. “In you go.”

“And if we don’t?” Steve says ready to hold his ground even in his current state.

From each of the notches along the walls, a doom-bot appears along with a human guard. There are at least two dozen of them. Bound in chains with no weapons and Tony to worry about, Steve hesitates.

“Good choice, Captain,” Pierce says.

“Who says I made a choice?”

“Oh, you did,” Pierce says and waits as they enter the elevator. 

Loki leans in and winks at them. “My Chitauri will keep your little band of heroes quite busy.”

Steve doesn’t react but wonders, for a fleeting moment, how much Natasha had to reveal in order to validate her cover. She probably had to give up some real intel, otherwise she wouldn’t be trusted. He considers whether or not he should trust her as the doors slide closed.

Tony immediately curses. “We don’t have much time, and they’re listening.”

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Steve says and falls back against the wall. His body aches in the slow wanting pulse of residual pain and healing. 

“The Chitauri are probably close if Loki is here,” Tony says.

Steve nods, it is a simple way of saying that means that the Commando and his crew are probably engaged in a battle not far from the capital. How far and if they have any back up is still in question. It will depend a lot on Pepper and Natasha. 

“Natasha,” Steve says as if her only her name will tell the entire story.

“She gets it done, doesn’t she?” Tony says. “Reminds me a lot of Pepper.”

“Yeah, she’s the same,” Steve says. They have to hope Pepper and Natasha will be able to work together to get Tony what he needs – and soon. “The Chitauri will kill my crew.” 

“I know,” Tony says and places a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Do you want me to try?” He points to the manacles. Even stating this questions out loud is a danger. 

“Magnetic locking mechanism with some kind of code, I think,” Steve says.

Tony touches his chest, right where the arc reactor lies. “Good to know.”

With little information and only a wish and a prayer that in some way his crew along with Pepper can fashion some sort of rescue, Steve prepares himself for anything as the elevator doors open. They step out and the view amazes and beguiles. The upper chamber of the tower is nearly completely open with windows gracing the circumference only interrupted at the compass points with massive doors that must be at least five meters high. Steve cannot guess what might be behind the doors at the four points, but he shuffles toward the pods that are placed throughout the rooms. These pods are where the Elite class of the Main Chamber hook up to the vids and virtuals, monitoring the vast expanse of Human Space. 

According to what he’s learned in the past, the leaders or the big wigs are enhanced with implants to connect seamlessly with the Grid. They work the Rag-net, they control the flow and ebb of communication, commerce, transportation and the flow of freedom from this room. Their bodies are endlessly connected, their minds are the core of the Grids.

Tony stalks up to one of the pods that eerily reminds Steve of the pod he’d been placed in during Project Rebirth except these have clear dome covers. Tony pops up on tip toes and peers inside the transparent cover. 

“Ha,” he says and then another little puff of air as he checks on its twin lying right beside it. 

Steve isn’t as fast, considering the chains but he makes it over to one of the pods and, with a little trepidation, peeks in.

Empty.

He doesn’t understand.

“This one is empty,” Steve says as he goes to the next one and frowns. “This one, too.”

Tony races between the pods, running from one to the other in a mad sort of dash. “I- these are all empty. Every single one of them.”

“Where are they?” Steve says and looks up to the ceiling of the Main Chamber to the virtual grid – a star like projection above them that even the daylight cannot dim. It hangs over them like a three dimensional map of Human Space with intersecting lines and pulsating hubs. This is all of humanity depicted above him. This is the intraspace of human civilization, the brain itself. It is supposed to connect to the Main Chamber’s minds. 

“Maybe they went out to tea?” Tony says and shakes his head. “No, this isn’t right. Something is wrong. Very wrong.”

“We always talk about the Main Chamber,” Steve says, bewilderment bubbling up to the surface. “We call them bigwigs, and they show this tower on the Rag-nets, but I don’t remember-.”

“Their faces. No, I don’t either,” Tony says. “They don’t have faces, my father told me. He said, once, a long time ago that the Main Chamber doesn’t have a face. To stay away from them. He might have been hooked on Ringers, might have used those longevity drugs but he knew what the hell he was talking about.” He peers up at the glittering lights above them. “He said to stay away, they are faceless, automatons.”

“They don’t exist?”

“Somebody exists,” Tony says and joins Steve at the western compass point of the Main Chamber. He tugs open his formal Courtesan jacket, and yanks the arc reactor from its casing.

“What the hell, Tony, no,” Steve says.

“While we can, we have to get you out of these damned chains,” Tony says. “I can last a bit before the nanobots move. Now, come on, let me see what I can do.”

Steve lifts the manacles as high as they will go considering they are linked to the shackles at his ankles. Tony connects the reactor to the locking mechanism and hits a tabbed button on the side. “This’ll only work for me, coded to my DNA.”

“The blueprints you gave Stane?” He keeps an eye out as Tony works.

“Sham,” Tony says and hits the button in a clicking that had a rhythm to it. “Code.” The mechanism fires and a slight tingling shoots up Steve’s arms before it unlocks and falls off. Tony has to jump out of the way so that the cuffs don’t land on his slippered feet. “Well, that happened.” He kneels down and, as he does, he sways slightly.

Steve grasps his upper arm and says, “Are you okay?”

“Fine, just let me get this done. We need you free to move.” 

“We?” Steve has a feeling that the _we_ does not just include Tony and him.

Tony rigs up the reactor to the ankle shackles using the same protocol but the locking mechanism doesn’t respond. “Shit, they used a variable.”

“Variable?” What the hell is that supposed to mean – it’s magnetic. “What?”

Tony waves him off as he taps on the buttons under the arc reactor. “Don’t worry about it, I got it.” He continues to finagle it. 

“Your friend Rhodes escorted me up to the Tower, I don’t think he intends to help.”

A snicker and a guffaw answers him. “Rhodes is his own man, and he is in his rightful place.” Tony winks at Steve. It sends all kinds of alerts alarming in Steve’s brain. He wants to check out the Chamber, he needs Tony to tell him what the hell is going on. 

Not a day ago, Tony was playing the forsaken, accepting his fate – but now, Steve sees it as a ruse. There’s no way to quiz him on the state of affairs and subterfuge, because Tony is right – they are being watched.

An almost imperceptible sound issues from the door on the east side of the room, directly behind the pillar with the elevator – it blocks Steve’s view of the door. “We’re in trouble, Tony, hurry up.”

“Any minute now.”

“Any second would be better.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

Steve tenses as the doors yawn open, and he sees the light change, the shadows in the room shift with the entrance of something large, something loud. Multiple sounds echo in the room, but he still can’t get a clear view of it. “Hurry up, we’re not alone.”

“More’s the pity,” Tony says and he feels the locking mechanism give way. 

“What?” Steve hisses. He shuffles the chains off and pushes Tony behind him. Bending, he gathers up some of the chains to use as weapon, as a garrote. He’s still weak, but his legs don’t quite feel like jelly anymore, and the pain is a pulse to keep him alert, ready, on guard as he moves forward.

Up against the elevator shaft he shoves Tony to the side and peers around the tube. He doesn’t hear any breathing or obvious sounds of life. He tries to dissuade himself from the worry that it might be something other than the big wigs who are supposed to occupy the pod-beds. Listening, he doubts that whatever just entered the room happens to be alive – in the way he understands alive. He presses his finger to his lips and Tony nods. He hears gears shift, move. It reminds him of Bucky’s metal arm when it articulates the joints and functions in complex motions. Underneath the metal gear noises he identifies the distinct buzzes of a swarm of doom-bots.

“Bots,” he mouths to Tony. 

Whomever it is expects resistance. He glances back at Tony to tell him to prepare and notes that Tony has a length of the chains fisted in his hands. Before they engage, Steve needs to get a quick visual for assessment and plan fast. Signaling Tony to stay put, Steve rushes over toward one of the pods, sliding to hide beneath and to the side of it before their visitors see them.

“Captain, the entire Main Chamber is under surveillance. I am aware that you are no longer imprisoned by the chains, and that you are concealing yourself and Courtesan Stark. Please come out immediately before harm comes to you or Courtesan Stark.”

Robotic, the voice sounds robotic. It’s distinct and emotionless. What the hell? He frowns as he shares an equally confused look with Tony. He points to the side and sweeps his hand around to indicate how they should approach their attack. Tony nods, tightening his fists on the chains. He’s truly amazed at Tony – how he can be playful and arrogant one moment – distant and resentful the next. How he played Stane and kept up appearances throughout their time together on Stane’s ship so that he could fool everyone, even Steve. 

His brilliance and bravery fascinates Steve. 

He readies himself – this will be a revolution whether it be an army, revolutionaries, or two men. It will start with two men, and it will change the world. He signals for Tony to go and he rushes around the elevator shaft to the other side of the chamber. He halts. What he sees utterly stops him in his tracks. He’s not sure what to make of it, he hadn’t calculated on this – not this.

A robot?

A gigantic robot stands in the center of a group of doom-bots; the bots looks like a horde of buzzing insects at its feet. The monster of a robot gleams in the light streaming in from the windows, its red lit eyes like fire in the silver of its domed head. 

“Tony?”

“I’m seeing it, but still trying to process it,” Tony replies and inches closer to the monstrosity.

“Captain Rogers, you have been tried and found guilty of treason by the Main Chamber. You have been sentenced to thirty days of corporeal punishment after which your sentence will be re-evaluated, and restated to be death. Unfortunately, since your body offers the secrets of the super soldier serum, you will not be humanely injected for termination. You will be sentence to death through decapitation.”

“Who the hell are you?” Tony yells while trying to move forward through the dozen doom-bots circled around the large center robot. “Where’s the Main Chamber, the Elite?”

The nine foot bipedal robot turns, the shine of its armor glinting, nearly blinding as it moves. “Courtesan Stark, I am your sponsor, I am Ultron.”

“You’re not Ultron, you can’t be-.” Tony scans the empty room, the pods are barren, empty. There’s nothing here but robots. 

“I was created by Hank Pym during a time of great need.”

“No, Pym created an artificial intelligence that rebelled. The Main Chamber along with Ultron destroyed-.” Tony stops and puts a hand to his face, shadowing his eyes. “You won, Ultron won. You were the artificial intelligence. All along, you won.”

“Very good, I knew you were intelligent, even though you are an imperfect human.”

As they talk, Steve places the pieces on the chess board. There are a dozen doom-bots, the five that are closest to him, he believes he could easily take out four without a problem before the fifth can take a shot. His analysis though is flawed because he has to measure how Tony might be able to take out the seven buzzing about on his side of Ultron. He studies the massive robot that has to be at least 3 meters tall, thick and heavy with metal armor and weapons. Perched on his shoulder are multi-barreled guns. 

It occurs to Steve then that Tony gave him the clues, though not all of the information. He’d said that Rhodes was in his rightful place – he’s in place – the right place. Steve whips around, scanning the horizon. It’ll be difficult to get through the air defense of the Main Chamber unless they have someone inside the First Inner Patrol who has the ability to flick the switch on the defensive fields. 

When he turns back, Tony gives him another wink and continues. His hands upraised, the chain long forgotten. “So, tell me Ultron, what do you expect to do with me as my sponsor? You suddenly interested in the ways of the human sexual experience, because you are the biggest god damned sex toy I’ve ever seen. Pym must have been really overcompensating.” He’s monologuing for a reason and Steve bites back his impatience as his heartbeat ramps up.

“You will assist on several matters regarding artificial intelligence,” Ultron states.

“Do you want to have baby robots?” Tony mocks. 

Steve holds his breath, hearing the roar of his heart in his ears, feels the twist of anxiety low in his belly. He flexes his hands around the chains, they’ll have one shot at this – whatever _this_ actually is.

“Enough,” Ultron orders and the doom bots rise from the floor, weapons aimed. “Captain, you will be taken-.”

In the distance, Steve hears the proximity alert blare to life. Spinning on his heel, Steve strikes out with the chains, one in each hand using them like long whips. He aims for the base of one bot, lassos it, then yanks to smash it against the one right next to it. He has to pull fast and hard to get the chain free as the bots spark and fizzle. There isn’t much time to think because, as he gears up to lash another of the bots, the air space around the tower breaks out with activity. Several police vehicles, buggers, appear as Ultron demands explanations.

“First Inner Patrol report status of police vehicles,” Ultron says. 

Steve knows that Tony has none of his tech to assist him and he calls out, “Take cover, damn it.”

Ignoring him, Tony races to his side and they stand back to back, ready with chains in hands and bots surrounding them. 

“I’m assuming the alert is you?” Steve says and Ultron turns his expressionless face toward Tony. The bots haven’t fired, yet, and that is disconcerting. 

“Well, not me exactly,” Tony says and that’s when it happens.

The windows burst open with a shattering of glass that implodes and sprays out across the entire room like a blizzard of shards. Crouching Steve blocks his face with a bent arm and then jumps up as the chamber transforms into a battle field. 

A suit of armor, not unlike the one Tony wore, flies into the air space carrying Natasha and Agent 13. As it glides in, Natasha jumps off with a roll to get to her feet and Agent 13 mimics her moves. They un-holster their guns, race for cover, and begin an all-out assault as the armor lands and moves on Ultron. 

Sirens scream and wail as Tony and Steve duck for cover but end up near the elevator. Tony rips open the panel for elevator operation and starts to re-configure it. The room heaves with motion and gunfire while the bots spread out like locusts over a wheat field. Ultron stands his ground, simply finding targets and shooting. He obliterates pod after pod, taking out their cover with prejudice. It won’t take long for them to be overwhelmed. If this is a revolution, Steve thinks it must be a mini-revolution because it will be over in no time at all. 

They don’t have the fire or the man power. Tony swears at one of the bots shoots out the panel and he jumps away, barely avoiding having his hand burnt off.

A few of the buggers take aim at the chamber itself as Ultron commands, “Bring Tony Stark to me, the rest can be disposed.”

In war, in any battle, life transforms into sensory input and reaction – no thoughts, no strategies. All plans must be completed and followed without question. At this point, the plan eludes Steve – because this is nowhere close to what they’d hoped. The smoke and fire and burning metal, along with the slight tinge of flesh rendered alerts Steve that they have to move, and act fast. There’s little time.

“What the hell? Tony, what’s the plan here?”

Tony only shrugs, wary and anxious. “This isn’t exactly my plan, I think Rhodey is improvising at this point.”

“Ya think?” Steve says. With no other choice, he takes command of the situation. “Create a diversion, get Ultron to focus on you.” He hates to put Tony in harm’s way, but Ultron gave up one key point – Tony is indispensable to him – he will not harm Tony. Steve wraps the chains like a garrote around his hands. Bot continue to flow in from the opened door near Ultron.

“What? What are you going to do?” Tony asks.

Steve pushes him. “Just do it.”

“I need a damned suit,” Tony curses behind Steve. 

After Steve nods to Tony, he sneaks around the tube of the elevator and waits for his opening. Rhodes and Natasha engage a clutch of doom bots and Tony takes advantage of Agent 13’s battle with a group of them. He hunkers low and taunts the giant robot.

The blend of noise and lights and smoke turns into a perfect cacophony – distracting and immediately dangerous. When Steve glances out the shattered windows, what he sees is a confusion – there are police buggers and First Inner Patrol ships but some of the Patrol ships have turned against the establishment and are pummeling their fellow servicemen. Explosion rock the tower, causing it to sway and buckle at its base. 

“This isn’t it, Ultron, you think this is it, all you have to worry about, but it’s not,” Tony yells from his cover.

“Officer Rhodes will you be tried for treason against the State, stand down,” Ultron states and then turns to Tony. “Courtesan Stark unless you surrender yourself into my custody immediately, you will forfeit any recompense for your services and your Corp will be seized by the State.”

“Um, yeah, not really worried about that considering,” Tony says and waves Steve on.

Steve gathers himself, takes a deep breath, and launches toward the group of bots closest to Ultron. He crashes into it and ignores the clash around him as the bots target him, as fire strikes close but doesn’t find its way home. He tears apart one bot and flings it at another, then literally picks up a third and rams it into the next. His energy pumps higher, and higher. His working on adrenaline only, letting it fuel his actions and push his brain and thought processes to top speed, ignoring the protests from his injured body. The air streaming into his lungs feels hot and powerful, he crushes metal with his hands and the thrill of it explode in his heart. He leaps as Ultron turns to Tony and clamps onto the robot’s back. He’ll have one shot at this, before it’s too late. 

Grappling, Steve climbs up the smooth surface. It feels too perfect, too familiar, and he realizes why. Ultron’s outer skin is made of vibranium, the same material as his shield. To make any dent in it, to seriously injure the artificial intelligence, Steve will need to get at the core of the torso or head. But he doesn’t have time, Ultron whips his head around, eyes flaring and arms bents to grab at him.

Blindly, Steve gropes for a handhold, anything to rip apart the robot with his bare hands. As he does Rhodes shoots directly at Ultron. The blow hits the A.I. but does little damage. He needs to expose his inner chest plate, something, and anything for them to get a direct hit. While he works to yank at the armor’s plating, Ultron slams him with his fist. The attack sends him into a new definition of nausea, reeling from the crack to his ribs. Yet, he hangs on, snakes his arm around Ultron’s torso and claws at the metal plating, trying to get a firm grip.

While he struggles to stay on Ultron, he hears Tony luring him around the elevator pillar. Steve realizes he’s working to get Rhodes a better shot, but it won’t do any good, not with vibranium plating. He needs to get a plate off. He heaves and catches a good grip on the side of the chest and wrenches, jerking part of the chest plating away.

Ultron screeches and reaches back again. When Steve’s avoids his clutches, Ultron bashes Steve up against the large doorframe behind him. The impact sends stars flashing across Steve’s vision and jars his teeth. The chest plate falls to the floor, but Steve holds on. He yanks a handful circuits from the innards of the A.I. Ultron slams him again, and this time the world funnels and blackens but doesn’t completely go out. He drops his hold and when Ultron stands up straight again, Steve rolls free from him into a circle of doom bots.

A series of blasts blind him, he shakes away the points of darkness invading his consciousness and he rushes for cover. The bursts of fire from a gun Tony must have dismantled from one of the trashed bots give him ample cover. Tony puts down a round of suppressive fire as Steve ducks and runs toward him. Ultron turns, briefly, gears up and the armaments on his shoulders blaze to life. With nothing as a weapon, Steve grabs for the first thing he can and finds the vibranium chest plate of Ultron. He holds it up to shield himself against the onslaught. 

Smoke and charred metal fills the air, seizing his lungs and he feels like he’s sixteen again in the middle of an asthma attack. Panting, he sprints to Tony’s side, using the chest plate as his shield. It feels strangely comforting and bulks up his courage as he grabs for Tony and they take cover behind it. Rhodes tries for the killing shot, but misses. Agent 13 and Natashaa keep up their assault of the bots, taking them systematically down.

Ultron is a rage of anger – if an artificial intelligence can exhibit anger – Steve is pretty sure it can. Ultron targets everything in the room in his haze of fury. The heat from the fire burns close and Steve huddles against Tony with the shield up. 

“That’s not right, he’s not right,” Tony mutters and peeks up from his hiding place to fire off a few scattered shots. They aren’t worth it, because Ultron turns his attention to Tony and Steve, leaving Rhodes and Agent 13 to fight their way through the bots unencumbered by the constant barrage of fire from Ultron’s guns. 

Beyond the tower, a small contingency of Inner Patrol vehicles that have broken off and taken position to protect Rhodes and his little rebellion, pelt the police buggers and other patrol ships with firepower. The constant bombardment of flashes and lights whites out all else, the noises deafen. Next to him Tony peers around the shield, cursing because Rhodes, Agent 13, and now Natasha cannot make it past Ultron and his bots. Rhodes launches missiles from its shoulder compartments but they explode harmlessly against the huge bulk that is Ultron. 

“Vibranium,” Steve yells. “Hit the exposed chest.”

Ultron engages with Rhodes and both Natasha and Agent 13 take cover. The fiery eruption is terrific and the reverberations slam into his chest hard enough to steal his breath away. Tony gulps next to him, struggling to breathe in the thick smoke. Screams issue out and Steve debates throwing himself and his makeshift shield into the fray. As he rises to do just that, Tony jerks him back. “That’s too much fire power, you’ll be throw out the damned windows.”

“We can’t let him take everyone down, not like this,” Steve says as the shot from Ultron throws Rhodes out the window. But the armor immediately rights and he flies back into the tower.

An explosion from the perimeter diverts Steve and he sees one of the ships battling the police vehicles rocket out of control. The ship tumbles out of the sky, directly toward the Main Chamber. Steve lurches to his feet, grabs Tony by the collar and races blindly and without destination away from the missile. It collides with a resounding impact, shuddering through the entire globe of the Main Chamber, clipping support structures and smashing into the elevator shaft. The chamber trembles on its pedestal, like a top wobbling to a stop. As the chamber tips, everyone and everything slides in a massive heave to the side. 

Grappling, Steve hugs Tony close to his chest, holding the chest plate toward the inevitable plunge to the ground. “Tuck up,” Steve says and pulls his legs up, forcing Tony to bend his knees to his chest.

“Fucking hell,” Tony says as they slam into the side panel, as shattered bots pelt him and they cartwheel forward over the sill of the window. 

Steve can’t latch onto anything since he’s holding Tony with one hand and balancing the chest plate against their bodies with the other one. “Grab onto something,” Steve screams over the crashing.

“Fucking-,” Tony curses over the noise and he can’t find purchase. They pitch out the window and the whole chamber follows them on a downward plunge to the city below.


	24. Chapter 24

Cold air washes over him and he startles awake, thinking the ice encases him again. Everything around him in bleary-eyed focus pulses with the pain plaguing his body. He wants to cleanse away the dirt and ash in his eyes but he can’t because his arms don’t respond, he can’t move.

Is he hurt? 

Did something happen?

The memories, when they come, jumble into his brain like a half fragmented avalanche. He tries to re-establish what happened but all he can recall is their foolish attempt at an attack on the Main Chamber, and the Main Chamber fell – quite literally. He should be dead, and then he jerks as he recalls grappling with Tony, trying to ensure that he would take the brunt of any collision. He yanks on his hands and realizes he’s trussed up, arms above his head. 

When he tries for leverage, he finds his feet, by way of shackles around his ankles, are secured to the floor. His eyes hurt but he still opens them again and his vision is impaired or he’s in a very dimly lit room. He decides it is the latter. He shifts in his bindings but discovers very little leeway. Because of how he’s being held, he’s not sure if he’s actually upright or horizontal. It brings a certain amount of vertigo to the equation. He wonders if he’s back on ship again.

He’s also naked again, which is getting old.

Shifting in the chains, it stresses his limbs to the limit because there is little give to them. He tries to clear his head, think straight, and when he does the fleeting thoughts settle, take root, and grow a clear and perfect fear.

“Tony?” He snaps his head around to try and figure out where he is. “Tony?”

No answer.

He’s not surprised, now that his vision has stabilized, and everything has come into sharp focus, Steve can only describe where he’s being held as a booth, or coffin, or stasis tube. It’s small, cramped, and with a tiny portal near where his face is to look out, or better yet, look into the tube. It reminds him of stasis tubes from back in his day. 

Even as he struggles he notes more foreboding things about his current status. A nasal-gastric tube laces up his nostril and down his throat. There’s an intravenous line in his neck, he believes, but cannot verify since he can’t actually see it. But he can feel the slight tug on his skin when he swallows. He yanks at his arms and nothing moves, and every muscle and bone aches in response. 

By all rights he should be dead. Maybe he is dead. 

Pushing ridiculous thoughts aside, he strains to see above him, to check out the confines in which he’s held. As he moves the chains rattle and the top where they are locked into place opens. In the cavern above him darkness greets him. A mechanism engages like a pulley system and he’s lifted into the lightless cave above him. The lines into his nostril and neck follow him without issue, the floor where his feet are locked transitions with him as well.

He struggles against the movement, but pain blossoms and he knows he’s not in perfect shape. Whatever the hell happened after they fell, he’d been injured. He hasn’t a clue how much or what’s going on.

Once fully lifted into the new environment, Steve feels the difference. This isn’t like the tube, it’s a larger space. The mechanism clicks into place and the lights switch on. Standing in front of him, like a metal god, is Ultron with his breast plate gone and wires still hanging like an opened belly wound. His red eye sockets glow and he studies Steve like a bug pinned in a display.

It isn’t Ultron that captures Steve’s full attention though. It is the person standing next to him, the person in a ripped shirt and torn skirt. Her high ponytail in disarray, Pepper presses her lips together as if she holding on to her tattered emotions by a thin thread. He doesn’t notice it until Ultron speaks –

“You will do as I have asked, woman, or the child will die.”

She raises the electrical whip. “I-I – don’t make me do this.”

“It is your punishment,” Ultron says and steps to the side, his head tilted as if he’s watching, examining her reactions and the interplay of her guilt and fear. “You will strike him thirty times, if you do not, the child, Peter Parker will die.”

Gazing down upon her, Steve sees she must have been crying for a long time. He dreads she cries over Tony. Why would she cry over him, over someone she barely even knows?

“Ms. Potts, Pepper, is Tony-.”

“The prisoner shall not speak,” Ultron states and the red of his eyes flare.

“Please, I don’t want to do this,” Pepper says again and looks everywhere but at Steve. 

He chances it again. “It’s okay, Pepper, don’t worry about it.”

Ultron turns his metallic head to Steve and regards him with a quiet stare. There is something chilling about the robot. Its movements are whisper perfect, it’s face like an insect, like something alien and fantastic. He keeps referring to it as a male, but he knows it is just a robot, a thing wired and created by a man.

“You have cost me quite a lot, Captain. Human Space will pay for your betrayal.”

“There was no betrayal, but yours-.” 

Ultron seizes the whip and slaps it across Steve’s chest, searing a brand of hot fire through his flesh. Steve growls out a scream and wants to hoist up his legs to protect his vulnerable torso, but can’t because they are still tethered. Ultron flicks the whip and then hands it back to Pepper. She doesn’t want to take it, shies away from it.

“If you do not, I will break his spine and tear him apart before your eyes.”

Pepper gulps in a cry and grips the whip handle, her knuckles bright white. 

“Thirty lashes, Ms. Potts.”

“You sold the Human Space on your idea of freedom, but it isn’t freedom. It’s just fear in disguise. It’s your fear-.”

“Ms. Potts, now if you please.” The voice is almost melodious, beautiful in its baritone.

She raises the weapon and, without any strength flings it at him. It sizzles against his skin, touching flames but doing no real damage. It stings like a crowd of insects biting at him.

“Be aware that your failure to do as required will only serve me. I will take the boy’s life.”

“Pepper, please just do-.”

The next lash hits hard and viciously across his thigh. He opens his mouth as if to scream, but keeps it strangulated and muffled for her sake. She hits again and this time the electric barbs snaps across his abdomen, scorching like daggers into his skin, causing him to go rigid with the shock. She continues and he falls into some kind of pain induced haze, it echoes through his muscles, pulling them taut, and rides through his nerves like demons at the feast. It eats away at him, devours his resolve until he has to cry out, until he squeezes his eyes shut and cannot look at her.

She sobs, great heaving sobs that lift her chest and come out of her, quaking her whole body. She begs and pleads but continues with each strike. As she does, the places she hits are compounded upon one another. He’s faltering, breaking, knowing there’s always more. He loses count along the way. She doesn’t. 

“That’s ten,” she says. “Please don’t-.”

“Finish it,” the mechanical beast demands.

The brief pause is over and the torment begins again. He wraps his hands around the chains, holding tight as the whip smacks against his flesh, tearing it, ripping it away as it burns. He’s panting when she calls out twenty and he feels wet running down his cheeks. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, please don’t make me finish,” Pepper says and her eyes are like an angel touched by Hell. She curses Ultron at the same time she beseeches. 

“Hit his face, and I will allow you to stop,” Ultron says, and for one moment, Steve cannot fathom how such a thing, such an advanced piece of technology could have been invented, designed, and built by another human being. 

“No,” Pepper says.

“His face and you can stop,” Ultron says.

Her shoulder slump and she bows her head. When she looks up, she meets Steve’s gaze. He sees her defiance, her plan. It will fail and they’ll all suffer for it.

“Don’t, he’ll only hurt you and Peter,” Steve rasps as she clutches the handle of the whip, readying her next swing. “Focus on the task, Pepper, hit me across the face. I swear I will heal.” 

Ultron remains silent and Steve thinks he must be assessing the interplay, fixing it in his circuits and codes. 

Pepper weighs the whip in her hand, adjusting it as she inhales once and then slowly lets it out. She keeps her head down, she’s trying not to play any tells, give any hints that the strike will be coming. He understands why, the anticipation and fear drives the pain in many ways. But when she arcs her arm and the electrified forked tongue of a whip slaps across his left cheek, upsetting the nasal-gastric tube but not pulling it free, he cries out half in surprise and half in agony. The white hot flame of electricity bursts like a bolt driven into his cheekbone. His vision blanks out and everything goes silent. Until, until he can hear again, and the first thing he zeroes in on his Pepper’s weeping. It isn’t harsh and body jerking, but small and weak like all of her strength has drained from her body, from her mind, from her soul.

He sucks in a breath and a shot of pain pierces through his nostril into his eye socket. Clenching his teeth, he breathes through the fire burning through tender flesh and steadies his racing heart. When he opens his eyes, Pepper mouths _I’m sorry_ over and again to him. She doesn’t have to be sorry, that’s all he wants to say, but every nerve ending screeches and he can’t form the words. Before he’s able to, guards come and jostle her out of the room.

Ultron stays, studying him like he’s an organism in a scientific experiment. “You are curious faulted creatures. You mourn for the wrong things. When punishment is due, there is no sorrow in it.”

“You’re a sadist,” Steve manages to get out. He can barely see, barely hear above the cacophony of pain strumming through his body.

“You are wrong, Captain. I take no joy or pleasure in my work. I am and always have been superior to your kind and I work to ensure that you are subjugated and ruled according to your lowest instincts.”

Steve chokes back a mangled laugh. “Superior? I’ve known men like you, I’ve fought against men like you. You’re not superior, you’re just a bully.”

Ultron stumps closer to Steve, bending down so that he’s squarely face to face. “Each of you are like insects, with astonishing behaviors and pitiful aspirations.”

Before Steve responds the entire assembly of bindings opens and the floor beneath him disappears. He falls, crashing into the hard concrete floor of the original stasis like tube he woke up in. His wounds spring to life in a concert of agony, and he curls around his shredded and burnt torso, allowing the pain to overwhelm him if only for a few minutes. 

He’s a fighter, he’s always been one. He doesn’t give up, he always tries. Surrender is not in his playbook. Yet, as the welt across his face throbs, he considers whether or not he’s come to the end, where he doesn’t have any more to give. He scratches at the feeding tube, wanting it out. It along with the intravenous line are tangled and stretched. He should get to his feet, figure out where they are coming from, if he does that, he might be able to fashion a way out of this mess.

The pain waylays him. He huffs as it swells up rising and cresting to break over him. He tries to distract himself, but that only brings him back to thoughts of Tony, if he’s okay, and then thoughts of Natasha, and Bucky, even the people he’d just met who tried to save them – Rhodes and Agent 13 crowd his head.

In the small tube, a black wave tides over him, darkening his mood and his hopes. The manacles are still around his wrists and ankles, but the chains are lose like he’s a marionette puppet cast aside. He’s a puddle on the floor. This cell is smaller than the one on Stane’s ship. He can’t even sit comfortably on the floor. Tucking his knees against his chest, Steve lays his head on them.

He needs to settle, to rest. His body took the fall of the Main Chamber, and whatever happened next; it needs time to heal. He should be grateful that they are supplying him with direct nutrients, it will help the healing process. It occurs to him that the lines from the feeding to the intravenous one could be pumping other things into his body. While most drugs and other agents have little effect on him, the idea that Ultron could supply him with high enough dosage to cause an effect worries him.

As he attempts to move, his skin tears open from the blisters and burns across his torso. He grunts but the wound on his face twists and he feels the tears stream down his face. He tries to deny the hopelessness, because when has Captain America ever felt lost, despondent? 

The sorrow pulls him, drags him to another time, when he sat crumpled by the edge of her bed, his mother. Soft but cold winds filtered through the cracks along the window pane as he clutched his mother’s too thin hand, as she lie dying in their tenement housing. His shoulders hurt, then, hurt from the sobbing and the wretched feeling that the burdens of the world were too much for him to bear. He held on as she wheezed, as drawing breath become a torment for her. He wished she would continue but hated himself for it, because it meant her pain escalated with each inhalation. He hated it then.

As he thinks on those moments, and his heart weakens in his chest when he considered what might have happened to Tony. Something deep inside of him tells him that Tony’s dead. Tony’s gone. There is nothing else, but the rage and sorrow to live for – but it isn’t him. He recalls the kind and soft smile of his mother, but also the stern, determined look when he’d been ready to call it, to give up as each ailment tortured his too frail form. She’d tell him he was better than that, better than the disease; he was stronger somehow inside. He never questioned her. Because she was always right.

Now, as he leans against the side of the tube he’s imprisoned in, Steve wonders what she should think of him – and then when he thinks on her and realizes that she lived so many hundreds of years ago it hurts deep in his soul, like a knife cut out holes in his chest. 

What will he do if he’s lost Tony like he lost his mother?

Because it will be the same. He’d been too weak back then to save her, and now Tony – Tony is lost because of him. He tries to quell the noises in his head, the screams, the feel of Tony in his arms as they dropped, plummeted to the ground. He cannot remember hitting, he doesn’t remember much at all after the collapse of the tower. He knows the entirety of Human Space must be in an uproar. What could they think when the seat of all power has been so categorically and literally destroyed. 

Is this the first shot of the revolution, or the trigger that set in motion tyranny that humanity has yet to experience?

He longs for it to be the former, but he fears it is the latter. He needs to figure a way out of this hell. Inching his hand up, he tangles it in the intravenous line to his neck and yanks it out. It hurts like hell, but at least he knows he’s not being dosed directly in the veins with Ultron’s poison. For now, he leaves the feeding tube in place, he needs the nutrients even if they are tainted with drugs.

Laying his head back, Steve closes his eyes and waits for oblivion to take him. It is the pain of his burns, and whip marks that eventually overcomes him and lulls him to a troubled sleep. When he wakes it is a small quiet noise that brings him around. Arms encircle him and he recognizes the smell instantly. He opens his eyes to see Tony.

“Dream?” he says and closes his eyes again. He doesn’t want to lose this moment. He wants to keep it, always. He chases after the dream.

A soft hand caresses his injured cheek. “Oh, Captain, I only wish it were.”

Steve opens his eyes and he finds himself lying half in the tube and half out of it. His head is cradled in Tony’s lap. The motes of Tony’s eyes are troubled with deep wells of sorrow. He strokes Steve’s face with a gentle cool cloth.

“How?” His voice sounds ruined and dried, like he’s aged all the years of his life. He’s weathered and brittle.

“Ultron, he let me see you, because I told him I wouldn’t do what he wants if he didn’t. The bastard,” Tony says as he looks up as if he’s talking directly to the A.I..

“Is he?”

“Watching, yes. Here, no,” Tony says. He lifts something out of Steve’s line of sight and brings a straw to his lips. “Drink, we don’t have much time.”

“What happened?” Steve says after he’s wet his mouth, his lips. 

“Ultron saved us, well, me. He let you drop but somehow the serum kicked in. You were out of it for a while before it was clear you were going to make it.” Tony looks around the bleak prison tube. “Once it was clear you would live, he strung you up here.”

Steve takes it like an assault, like he’s been punched in the solar plexus. He’s not surprised that Ultron only saved Tony, but what hurts the most is that the A.I. dug Steve out of the wreckage to use as leverage against Tony.

“He should have let me die,” Steve says. “You should have insisted on it.”

Tony hisses and looks up. In a murmured voice he says, “I tried.”

He sees the pain in Tony’s expression, feels how it shivers in tiny quakes in his hands. Steve grasps Tony’s hand to his cheek. “It’s good, this is good.”

“It isn’t, it’s bad, Steve, it’s very bad.” Tony blinks multiple times; he’s trying to be brave for Steve. “He cut everyone off, the god damned son of a bitch, cut everyone off.”

“Cut them off?” Steve says, but he doesn’t want Tony to tell him anything that might lead to trouble.

As if reading his mind, Tony only shakes his head. “Ultron, cut off the communications net, the Rag-nets, the Grids. He razed the city. There’s nothing fucking left of it. He sent out drones to demolish just about every fucking thing in the sphere of the Inner Belts. He’s, it’s cleansing everything, all of it.”

“Natasha?” Steve asks as Tony offers him more to drink. The water feels both blessed and cursed because the coolness emphasizes the heat of the burns.

“I don’t know, I know Ultron has a warrant out for her, for Rhodes and the other agent,” Tony says.

“Agent thirteen,” Steve says and then coughs up some of the water. Tony turns him over, and pats him on the back.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long,” Tony says. He strokes back Steve’s hair. “He won’t let me. He only let me in here-.” He breaks then, stops, staring away from Steve. “I shouldn’t have done this to you. I-my father- I always thought you were a hero- my hero. You are, you know, my hero.”

“Tony, don’t-.” Every breath hurts, every joint and bone aches. His body must still be healing from the fall, and the burns are exacerbating his state, but to see Tony so despondent and wrecked, destroyed sends him into a new degree of agony. 

“Christ, Steve, it wasn’t worth it, it isn’t worth it. He’s going to torture you, he’s going to kill you. He’s going to fuck with humanity. He’s deranged.”

“What, what does he want from you?” Steve threads his fingers through Tony’s hand, holds it to his chest. 

“Something about the code, he wants to expand it, he wants to become humanity,” Tony says and tries for a roll of his eyes like he would in their more carefree days. “He wants in on every human brain. The enhancements, he wants to link and then take over. He wants human brains as his hard drive. He wants me to facilitate it.”

“Tony, you can’t,” Steve says and the crumpled expression on Tony’s face stabs into Steve harder and harsher then the myriad of injuries afflicting his body. 

“I know, I know-.” Tony curls up his mouth, biting at his lips. His shoulders slump and there’s resignation in him. “I can’t do this, Steve. I can’t watch him do this to you.”

With every bit of strength Steve can muster, he climbs up to sit and gathers Tony in his arms, clanking the chains as he does. “This is bigger than the both of us. You can’t give in.”

“Damn it, damn it,” Tony growls. He jerks away. “I cannot fucking do this, don’t make me. I am not a robot, I am not an automaton. This is you, for fuck’s sake. I can’t watch him do this to you.”

“We’ll think of something,” Steve says and whispers quiet hushes into Tony’s hair. He tries to stay upright as long as possible but the pain from his bones and the torn flesh gets the better of him and he sways in their embrace. 

Tony slowly lays him back down. They sit for a while in silence and then Steve says, “When I was a little boy, I played a game.”

“A game?” Tony frowns at him, puzzled.

“While my mom liked to tell stories, you know, she liked to tell all kinds of stories. I think she called them allegories.”

Tony only makes a slight huffing noise. He needs Tony to listen, so he picks up his hand and kisses the finger tips. “My mom told me these stories when I would play the games and I would lose.”

“Yeah, what’d she tell you? She tell you about how it isn’t good to be a sore loser.”

Steve laughs a little. “Yeah, sometimes. But these stories had meaning, you know. She’d tell me about the hopper. It was a little ship that couldn’t get anywhere because it was – like too small to get anywhere.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tony says.

“It’s a parable, it isn’t supposed to make sense.” Before Tony refutes him on that fact, Steve continues. “The little ship couldn’t get anywhere, so all the other ships made fun of it. You know, how that is. It would try and try and try. But it couldn’t get anywhere. Then one day it decided it would just hop along, hop from point to point. Take it in smaller steps and it would find its way.”

“Find its way?”

“Yep, the little hopper. It got where it needed to go, by taking all the steps smaller, taking smaller steps. A hopper, Tony, a hopper,” Steve says, hoping that Tony understands, hoping to God and angels and Thor – anyone out there who might be listening – that Tony gets that he is not talking about the little ship that could. He’s talking about the hopper nodes, nodes that were used centuries ago for navigation, that are still out there, that can be used without the Rag-nets, and Grids because they were used before the communications network had advanced so much. 

“So the moral of the story is that we shouldn’t give up?” Tony says, giving Steve no indication he even got a whiff of what Steve was trying to impart. 

“Something like that,” Steve says.

“I’ll keep it-.”

The blare of a horn and then the chains start to rattle and move. Tony peers up at the ceiling of the tube prison and the winch withdraws the lax length of the chain. 

“No, fuck you, no,” Tony says and leaps to his feet. He screams at the walls. “You said I could stay with him. You said I could make sure he was safe.”

“Tony, Tony, don’t-.” Steve doesn’t want this, he can’t bear to watch Tony mourn over him, to risk his life for him.

“I can take the chains off,” Tony screams into the anteroom. The walls near the ceiling open, a small slit and guns are focused, not on Tony but on Steve. A threat, a warning. “Son of a bitch. I fucking hate you.”

The pulley hoists Steve upward, his arms tugged above his head again, he’s dragged to his feet. “Just go, Tony, go.” He doesn’t struggle or try and break the adamantium bonds. He grabs the chains as he’s lifted and watches Tony. “I love you, now go.”

Tony reaches up, his eyes awash with pain; he parts his lips but says nothing.

The gears shifts and Steve rises to the second level again and the tube prison is closed off. He can’t see Tony anymore. His legs have a certain leeway and he might be able to swing them up and around to do some damage. He needs a better plan than just reacting, though. He can’t see Tony like that again.

Keep his wits about him, he needs to do that so that he can assess and figure out how he can get Tony out. What does Ultron want with Steve?

Grasping the chains, he readies himself as his ascent completes and he’s delivered to the dark room where he’d previously been whipped. He thinks about Pepper and hopes she’ll forgive herself. He should have asked Tony about her, if she was okay, but he can’t think about it, now.

He waits, hanging in the black of the room. The weight of his body draws on the tendons and sinew of his arms. He feels his shoulders protest and the socket scream as he forces the pain back. Sometimes, he recalls, torture doesn’t have to be blatant, sometimes torture can be subtle and trying. With his feet just barely touching the floor, most of his weight ends up being supported by his wrists, arms, and shoulders. He knows what’s next. The pain from his shoulders, from the stress of his body, will tax his lungs. It’ll feel like an asthma attack when it comes, when breathing becomes a chore because each and every breath will mean he has to lift his chest and his _whole_ body mass in order to inhale. 

Instead of waiting for the inevitable, he pulls up his legs and tests to see how far he can bring his feet. The chain has an ample amount of give this time and he’s able to bring his legs to his chest when he grabs hold of his chains with his hands. He swings his legs forward and up, hitting the ceiling with one arc of his legs. He repeats the process but this time he bends his body and plants his feet on the ceiling. The weight and force on his arms is tremendous and he heaves in a breath as sweat trickles into the abrasions and burns. Hissing, he uses his body as leverage to climb up to the ceiling, and try to figure out the mechanism for the chains.

Nothing gives the entire mechanism must be constructed from adamantium. He wedges himself further up the chains, and then hanging from one chain, attempts to peel back the ceiling brace. He’s gritting his teeth, grunting as his muscles cry out from the abuse. Sweat drips in his eyes and he can barely see anyway in the dim light of the room. As he feels around for any give, the room flashes into brilliant light and he drops his feet, letting them fall to the floor. It jars his shoulders so much that he cannot suppress the cry of surprise and agony. 

The cell door opens and Ultron enters. Steve only hopes that Pepper isn’t with him – or anyone else. He doesn’t want anyone to go through that again. He sinks into fear when he sees Tony follow Ultron.

Ultron assess him, but says nothing. The A.I. turns and considers Tony, who looks beaten – not physically but more emotionally. The hollow places in his face look bruised and his eyes are dull yet seething. He’s dangerous like this, Steve feels it like a vibration in his bones.

“Ultron wants me to tell you that, he’s a dick.” Ultron whacks Tony in the side of the head. He stumbles but doesn’t fall. “Fuck you then, you tell him yourself.”

Ultron faces Steve. “Courtesan Stark refuses to fulfill his contract with me.”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with me. I’m just a traitor, I don’t hold his license.” Steve gathers the chains in his hands again, waiting for an opportunity to strike. The idea that Tony shows such defiance encourages Steve, fill him with the adrenaline he needs to fight past the pain and find a way to attack.

“If he does not fill his bargain with me, he will need to provide your next scheduled punishment.” Ultron waits.

Steve glances at Tony and something cold crosses over his features. He decides to address Tony. “Don’t worry about it, Tony. I’m nearly healed from the last ti-.”

“When he forced Pepper to do that to you?” Tony’s voice cracks, there’s still anger lacing it but at the same time there’s horror as well. “I know, I saw. They made me watch.”

Steve realizes he’s panting, struggling for breath. It is the last thing he wants to do with his stressed muscles and diaphragm. He tries to even it out, but the tone in Tony’s voice cuts through him, harsher than any whip. “Don’t do this to yourself, Tony.” Steve barely vocalizes it, the anxiety bubbles up, takes hold. “Don’t Tony.” He can’t stand the thought of Tony blaming himself.

Ultron steps between them so that Steve cannot see Tony. His massive bulk blocks everything. The A.I. is within touching distance. Knowing he has only one chance at this, he heaves up his legs and wraps one around Ultron’s torso, and uses the other leg like a battering ram to push into the open chest plate and rip it apart.

“Steve,” Tony says and rushes forward as Ultron cartwheels his arms and tries to bat Tony away. The smack sends him across the room.

“Leave off,” Ultron warns. His massive arms come up and seize Steve’s foot as he roots around with his toes to try and yank circuits out of the belly of the beast. Before he’s able to latch onto anything, Ultron twists his foot, contorting it. The snap of the bone sickens him as much as the shot of pain as it fires up his leg. He drops both of his feet. Immediately the chains around his ankles tighten, pulling taut again.

“I won’t do anything for you, I’m not going to give you anything,” Tony says. The robot hovers over him, threatening in its bulk. 

“You will fix the code, you will follow my instructions. You will do what I say or Captain Rogers will only be the first of your friends to suffer and perish.” Ultron grips Tony upper arm and holds him in place. Ultron reaches for Steve then and there’s nothing he can do to protect himself. 

Placing the palm of his hand against Steve’s flank, Ultron gloats as he fires. “This is only the beginning. Imagine how much worse it will be for your friend Pepper Potts.” He blasts the hand weapon, not unlike Tony’s repulsor, searing flesh and burning a whole into Steve’s flank. It leaves a gaping hole of blood and tissue and bone. 

The fire rips through Steve and he retches as the pain escalates and his brain rebels. He’s not sure who screams louder, if it’s Tony’s voice or his own. The pain continues long after Ultron hauls Tony away, increases as the chains are dropped and he plummets to the floor of the tube cage. A sound like a small trapped animal echoes in the small tube, he wonders at it, until he realizes it is him. The smell of charred flesh sickens him. The pain takes him in a delirium of fevered agony. He’s not sure how many hours or days come or go as his body works to repair the massive damage of the grisly hole in his side. 

He recalls someone coming to him, giving him water as he cries out. He remembers Tony speaking to him, telling him he’ll do what Ultron says if it means Steve can be left alone. He’s working it on, Tony promises. He just has to figure out how to convince Ultron that he’s doing what he wants. He thinks he begs Tony not to do it. He thinks the burnt flesh stench might be more horrible to endure than the pain. He pukes and there is nowhere to avoid it in the tube. 

At one point a sprinkler system turns on to clean it up. He’s not sure. It leaves him shivering from the cold. All through it, he suffers the whip – every day without fail – as his punishment. He’s not sure who is forced to strike him. He thinks it might be others, but he can’t tell. His body keeps trying to heal, to rest but the increased injuries delay it and his brain fogs.

Lying his head against the corner of the tube, he tries to count out how many times the sentence of corporal punishment has been carried out. How much longer must he deal with it? But the pain blends the days and misery burns his memories. 

As he calculates and tries to think beyond the haze of anguish, the tube opens. For some reason he hasn’t been drawn up by the chains, but he understands it might be due to the fact he can barely move with his injuries.

Hands probe his wounds and then something soft is placed in the lesion at his flank. It stings at first and then soothes. He peels open his eyes and there’s a woman hovering close to him. She has a medic kit at her side as she kneels next to Steve. Her eyes are concerned, her expression is serious. 

When she glimpses that he’s awake, she smiles and says, “Welcome back, Captain Rogers.”

“Wh-at, who?” He thinks he might know her but his mind skitters along and catches on the residual pain enough that it’s difficult to form the whole answer.

“Don’t worry, Captain.” She works on his wounds as she talks. “We got you.”

“Who, who has me?”

She smiles. “Fury sent me.”

“Fury?”

“Among others.”

He still cannot process her words and he tries to ask again.

She cuts him off. “We don’t have much time, Captain. Maria Hill, I’m here to get you out.”


	25. Chapter 25

Hill allows him no time to react. She tugs out his feeding tube, presses a syringe to his forearm and delivers the injection before he’s able to process anything that’s happening. What does fall into place is that she and whomever else is helping her is going to be killed, very quickly and very soon. He tries to protest, and move away from her, but her hands are insistent and firm.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sorry it took so long, but we had to wait for the Chitauri attack.”

“Chitauri? What?” Nothing fits together, she’s a ghost he realizes and he’s become too desperate to know better. Darkness funnels and he feels hands on his jaw, cradling his face.

“Come on now, Captain, I need you to wake up,” the apparition says. “You have to wake up now.”

“I’m not,” he says and the words feel wrong in his mouth like so many glass shards sharp and gritty. “I don’t know who you are.”

“Yes, you do Captain Rogers. I work with Nick Fury. You remember,” Hill says and she places something on his side from the medic kit she’s carrying, and he feels the cool gel as it seeps inside of him. “That’ll take the edge off. Sorry it isn’t stronger for you, considering.” 

She places a small disc on the bindings of the manacles and the cuff opens to fall off. She repeats the exercise three more times, freeing him of his restraints. Before he’s able to respond or react, she pulls out a bag from the kit and unfolds a tunic and pants. 

“Not sure if they fit, but they’ll have to do.” She offers them to him. “Can you dress yourself?”

“Uh?” His brain falters and sputters but he climbs to his feet with her assistance. She turns around and allows him to use her shoulder as a balance as he steps into the pants. He needs her help to get the tunic on, but in short order he’s dressed. The fabric abrades his wounds, but he doesn’t complain. He knows he looks a mess. His foot is swollen and purple still, the lashes seep and bleed. He hasn’t completely healed from one torture session to the next. 

His mind cycles back to what she stated earlier. “Chitauri?” He steadies his balance against her shoulder, his ankle and foot haven’t fully healed since Ultron crushed his bones.

“Yes, Captain, we don’t have time,” Hill says as she eyes the surveillance equipment notched in the walls along the ceiling. “There’s only so much time to be had before Ultron realizes something’s up.”

“Something’s up?” He mimics and knows his brain judders along still, halting and sticking in place, but he needs to understand, forces himself to focus, if only for a little bit. “Tony?”

“He’s coming.”

“You have him?”

Hill frowns and continues to lift up his tunic and apply more of the gel to his side. “This is some nasty stuff.” She grimaces as she works. “Anyone else would be flat out dead, Captain.”

“If it makes you feel better, I feel like I’m dead,” Steve says as she wraps an arm around his waist and leads him out of the tube prison. 

“I’m sorry, no shoes, but hopefully you won’t need any.”  
Outside the torture chamber sits a doom-bot. He jerks but Hill holds him firmly attesting to how wounded he actually is considering she can keep him in place. “What?”

“It’s a decoy,” Hill says and leans down after she props him up against the frame of the prison tube. She presses the head of the bot and the mid-section opens. “Climb in.”

“Seriously, this is your plan?” This seems completely and utterly useless.

“You want to stay in the tube you’re more than welcome,” Hill says and waits.

“I just think we need a better plan,” Steve says and limps toward the bot.

“What like a magical tool that will cut open a hole in the floor and let us run through the sewer system to freedom?” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Captain, get in the bot.”

He nods and winces as he tries to bend down. “I might need-.”

He doesn’t finish as she steps forward to help guide him into the cramped space inside the emptied belly of the robot. He maneuvers his body into the space and, with some grunts as the pain increases, he’s able to get situated.

“Are you sure, you might need help,” Steve says.

She rolls her eyes. “Captain, I need to get us out of here alive and in one piece, right now you barely hanging on to the definition of alive.”

When he goes to protest she only pushes his hand out of the way and closes up the bot. It is dark inside without any way to know what’s happening. He can barely hear her, but then the door opens again, she offers him an ear bud, and then closes it again.

He sticks the bud into place and she says, “Stay quiet. We’re traveling some of the busiest concourses to get to the back docking bay. Most humans aren’t trusted, only a few.”

“And you’re one of them?”

“Seems so and, luckily, the Chitauri have most of Ultron forces engaged.”

“I thought Loki was on the Main Chamber’s side,” Steve says.

As the bot lifts and begins to hover, Hill says, “Well, it was only a matter of time before Loki found his opportunity, with the Chamber in a shambles and the city razed he went for it.”

“How bad?” Steve hunches over his knees in the space and the strain hurts his side, but he ignores the insistent wetness gathering at the edge of the tunic.

“Bad enough, quiet now,” Hills says and they move through the concourse with little interaction. Steve finds himself holding his breath even though he’s certain no one can see him. He worries about scanners and other eyes – it isn’t easy to get through checkpoints with a super soldier encased within a doom-bot. He assumes there must be some application to fool scanners activated on the bot.

Through the comm-link Steve hears Hill successfully navigate through the barriers leading to the main portion of the city and the docks. She seems to have infiltrated Ultron’s inner circle of humans with some degree of efficiency. No one questions her, and he has to wonder how this all came about – how long she’s been at it. She’s fairly well known as part of the SHIELD Corp, but then again, he recalls when he was on Earth hearing that Fury and Hill left SHIELD. 

He can’t thread the lines of information together. The pain from his wounds and from being bent up inside of the bot keeps everything in a thick haze. Compulsively, his brain sounds off about Tony, where’s Tony, is Tony all right, when will he see him again. While he wants to tell his brain to just shut down, to shush, he’s compelled to work out scenarios of what he will do if Tony isn’t part of the rescue. 

As they continue to thread their way through the concourse, Steve can only surmise that most of the city’s transportation system is non-functional. He can’t imagine getting all the way to the docks without being detained if they have to walk it. 

“Are we walking the entire way?” He risks asking.

“No, stay put and stay quiet.” She must turn away from the bot, her words a slightly muffled but that makes no sense since she must be using an earbud, or she could be utilizing the comm-link attached to the bot. It would make sense, Ultron’s forces couldn’t quiz her on who she’s connected to, especially if what Tony said was correct – the Rag-nets and Grids are down.

A stream of dialogue that he cannot make out, but Hill’s voice raises, though remains firm. Finally, she must turn back to the bot, because the link picks up her protests again. “I’ve been directly ordered by Secretary Pierce-.”

“Secretary Pierce is no longer relevant,” a robot sounding voice answers.

“He wanted me to bring the bots in for repair once-.”

“You need to be processed with the other humans as directed by Lord Ultron.”

 _Lord?_ The A.I. is delusional, Steve decides. 

“I don’t think so,” Hill returns and then there’s a scuffle. Steve tries for the latch on the side of the bot, but it’s difficult to find and trigger in the dark. A blast from a rifle and then a kick to the side of the bot. He hears the sound of a weapon whining as it warms to fire. In seconds a rapid report of gun fire blasts and he bangs on the side of the bot to try and free himself. Before he's able to jimmy the locking mechanism, it is flipped open and he crouches down, shielding his face, half expecting Ultron's drones to be the ones greeting him. It's Hill, holding a large gun that he hadn't known she carried.

She helps him out of the cramped space and when he questions her on the gun, she shrugs and pats the burnt bot. "Lots of hiding spaces in these things."

Nodding he surveys the robotic parts strewn over the concourse. They are in a fairly concealed access road to the main thorough fare of the capital city. He searches and finds a blast weapon still clutched in the hands of one of the drone. He scoops it up.

"Seems like we've been made," he says.

Hill agrees. "Good point." She peers over her shoulder. "They probably know you’re gone by now. Stark's program held longer than I thought it would."

He should quiz her on what she means but the sight of the city from the edge of the access alley captures him. Steve limps over to the pillars near the edge of the concourse. He looks up and sees what's left of the city. The buildings, the roadways, everything is destroyed. The concourse remains in patches and, as it travels further out from the main core of the city, it drops off like a cliff. The destruction turns over in his gut like a sickness, it brings bile to his mouth. He hasn't seen anything like this, the hollowed out craters, the skeletal arms of skyscrapers reaching up into a merciless sky since the first Space Wars, all those years ago. The complete destruction signaled the end to many things, especially Earth. It changed everything, and he knows this will transform Human Space as well. 

“Captain, we don’t have much time.” Hill walks over to him and waits as he bows his head. 

“This wasn’t what we intended,” Steve says, and wonders if she has any idea what he might mean. She must be privy to parts of his plan, the plan to save the meek, the forgotten ones; the plan to change the world with revolution. 

“I know, but-.” She stops and taps her ear bud. “We have to go.”

“What is it?”

“Chatter, they’re coming,” Hill says and grabs for him. “We don’t have a lot of time.” She holds him close while at the same time tossing a coin shaped disc to the ground. It tumbles, and then lies flat. Once it does an electrical field expands from it, mapping out a circle slightly larger than a meter in diameter. 

“What?”

“Magical devices, Captain.”

As she raises a brow at him the little coin sends a burst into the concrete of the roadway, breaking through it, down through several layers until the entire thing drops down to the sewers below them. She smiles and points. “You might want to get in, we’re gonna have company soon.”

Steve scans the area and, before he glimpses the glint of the drones and doom-bots metallic bodies, he catches the whirling sound of their gears and motors. He nods and they both approach the hole, it is a good five meter drop. It won’t do too much damage to him, so he wraps his arms around Hill and leaps, twisting his body to land solidly on his side. It hurts like hell, he needs to have a respite to heal. But, after, he sucks in a few breaths, and rolls to his feet as Hill climbs to stand.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Hill says as she dusts off her clothes while checking out the hole above them.

“Yes, I did. Now, let’s go,” Steve says. 

Without hesitation, she tugs out an energy bar, slaps it in his hand, and then puts a shoulder under his to help him. “Eat, we should move.”

“Lead the way, where are we going?” 

Their progress is slow and Hill doesn’t answer right away as she listens to the ear bud. She frowns but waves Steve to follow as they head under the city and through the darkened system. It isn’t the sewers as Steve previous assumed, but a long ago abandon rail system. They hurry down the extensive tunnels with little to guide them but Hill’s sense of direction. When he’s about to question her, she turns to him and says, “Bots are swarming. Can you run on that?”

He looks down at his swollen ankle, his bare feet, and the shattered remains of the tunnel’s floor with its broken rails, barbs, nails, and glass scattered about it. Without more than a momentary hesitation, he says, “How fast?”

She smirks. “As fast as I can run?”

“Let’s go,” Steve says and they take off through the subway system. 

At some point, Hill takes out a small penlight and chances using it to throw light along the tunnel. They clamor over fallen struts, sift through small cave-ins to climb on hands and knees over the mess. Steve’s side screams in protest, and his feet are a mess of blood and cuts. He ignores both, right now, he needs to get to safety so he can interrogate Hill on where Tony is. 

As they slide down a collapsed wall, Hill taps her ear bud again and then turns to him. “About a dozen, maybe more.”

“Where are you getting this information?” His ear bud only connects to hers.

“Stark.” She doesn’t explain and grabs his wrist to pull him into a recessed corner of the subway tube. Huddling in the recess, they wait and then she turns to the side and clamps a small disc onto the lock. With a slight puff it blows the lock and they escape through the door. He ducks as he makes his way behind her. 

“This is a maintenance access tunnel, used to be for bots to service the trains.”

“Explains it,” Steve says as he hunches over. The low ceiling will make it nearly impossible to run if they are found. He pushes the door closed to give them some cover. 

Getting back onto his hands and knees seems like the best way to tackle maneuvering through the maintenance access tunnel. Both of them scuttle through the cavern, avoiding the wires and piping along the floors and ceiling. As they twist around the curves of the tunnel, Steve hears the distinct sound of drones.

“Coming closer,” he murmurs into his comm link.

In front of him, Hill only bows her head for a second to acknowledge the oncoming horde. She might not be able to hear the drone army, but she’s receiving reports via her earpiece. The sing of the drones gears increases and Steve whips around and swings the gun to target them. The drones are different than the doom-bots, they resemble Ultron with a more humanoid form, yet with exaggerated articulations of the joints and long spider like fingers and toes. Their mandibles protrude with large spikes for teeth. 

Why the hell robots need teeth isn’t something he wants to ponder. 

Instead, he lays down a round of fire as soon as they’re spotted. He hits his targets with prejudice and then slings the gun onto his shoulder to follow Hill through the maze of underground tunnels. 

“Number?”

“Well over a dozen,” Steve reports and turns again to fire at the advancing horde. Shots strike close, rattling the confined space. Smoke and dust start to fill the dense air. 

They scramble over the littered maintenance shaft; the wires and struts protruding from the walls a continued hazard. Several of the drones behind them fire shots but Steve hunkers down and yells for Hill to drop. She follows without question. If they don’t get out of the shaft soon, the whole place is going to drop on their heads. 

Shots explode around them, fire, heat, and shrapnel spray out, peppering the area. The rounds continue without pause, and Steve squirms his way up to Hill, covering her with his body. They can’t even lift their heads to get a shot off.

“We don’t have a choice, we have to go for it,” Steve says through clenched teeth. The smoke swirls around him and he sees Hill has a cut above her eye and struggles not to cough. “Where are we headed?”

She digs the ear bud out and shoves it in his hands. 

He plugs it in without asking and says, “We’re trapped in a maintenance tunnel beneath the city for the old metro lines. Do you copy?”

“Oh Captain, my Captain, I surely do.” Tony’s voice is a welcome relief. Warmth spreads from his chest outward at the sound. “You need to head to the west from where the action is. There’s a ladder up only about a hundred or so meters from your signal.”

“Copy that,” Steve says and, although he wants to cry out his joy at hearing Tony over the link, he keeps to the business at hand. Turning back to Hill, he says, “We have to go toward the west – do you have a good feel for that?”

As she wrestles a tablet out of her breast pocket, Steve turns back to engage the drones. A number of them have inched closer, the fire of their red eyes glowing like pits of hell in the dark cavern. They might be intimidating, but they present perfect targets. He aims and picks them off, one by one. The ricochet of his weapon pounds into his abused shoulders. 

Even as he celebrates his victory, he yells back to Hill, “Anytime now would be nice.” For every drone he picks off, another two take its place – it is chillingly similar to how Hydra worked back in the day. 

“Up ahead Captain,” Hill screams over the report of gunfire. 

He checks the drones, squints into the smoke and debris. They’ll have one chance at this, and one chance only. He thrusts his gun into Hill’s hands, clutches her around the waist, stands up as far as he can, and hurtles toward the exit.

The drones throw an all-out assault as Steve tows Maria along, skipping and tripping over the tangles of wires, the piles of support struts, and the avalanche of steel girders. Fire explodes in a ball in front of them and Steve shields his face with his arm, and Hill with his body. He never wanted his own shield more than he does today, right now. 

Another detonation from behind them rocks the underground cavern and they pitch forward; he loses his hold on Hill and he tumbles to the debris cluttered ground. Landing with a grunt, he searches the area, finds Hill not moving next to him. He shakes her, but when she doesn’t immediately respond, he heaves her into a fireman’s carry, grabs the pad, and races toward the beacon on the screen. 

Impacts flash around him, shrapnel pierces through the tunic, and hits his cheeks as he runs through the labyrinth. Another eruption and he throws himself behind a pile of struts and shelters Hill with his body. She’s coming around, and for that he’s grateful. As she blinks awake, he grasps her hand and tugs her to her feet. They have no time to dawdle. Not only are the doom-bots and drones converging on their position, but his side wound pours blood down his torso and rivers along the side of his leg. 

He sees that Hill has a few newly acquired injuries but doesn’t question her, only hauls her out of their small haven and heads back on track toward the outlet. The drones bombard them, a barrage of bullets spray throughout the tunnel. Blast rays from the drones chests add to the mix as well as fire grenades launched from their shoulders. 

With limited time left, he drags Hill along, pushing her forward of him so that his body can take the brunt of the attack. Finally, they find the ladder to the outlet. It ascends up into a narrow passageway. She tosses him her gun and he fires without aim, just to allow the chaos to give them leave to escape. 

Clasping the rung he races upwards but one of the drones clears the battle field and clamps onto his broken ankle. With no other choice as he clings to the rungs, Steve kicks out at the drone, and then he brings his gun around and blasts his way free. He feels the heat of the explosion on his bare feet. He skitters up the rungs with the gun slung over his shoulder. Hill pounds the hatch of at the top of the access passage and it opens. She climbs out with Steve following. Before he knows what’s happening, someone tosses a grenade down into the pitched dark and then the hatch is closed and locked again.

“Fire in the hole,” Tony screams and they all kneel with hands over their ears. 

When Steve peers up after the vibrations from the detonation settle, Tony, Pepper, and Peter are waiting for him. Tony glances at him, with a flicker of his eyes as if he’s doing an inventory of Steve’s hurts and his malnourished body. 

“Don’t,” Steve says.

“I will if I want to, Captain,” Tony says but his eyes are cold and his expression fierce. “Get on the bike. We still have to get to the outer docks, it’s the only area in this godforsaken place that’s still held by humans.”

They are in a small garage type structure with the door partially lifted. Off to the side are two motorcycles, both large enough to accommodate multiple riders. Pepper doesn’t meet his eyes and when he tries to inquire about her status, she only shakes her head and ushers Peter to the bike with Tony. 

He steadies himself, he hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to see her again. He shouldn’t feel guilty for her pain, yet he does. He leans against the bike and Hill waits for him. Tony joins him and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t.”

How he knows that Steve feels guilty, irrationally guilty for what Pepper went through, he can’t imagine. 

“Get on the bike, Steve,” Tony says. His words are soft, tender, but there’s a force, a determination about him that’s near commanding. His thumb massages the hollow of Steve’s throat. He leans up on tiptoes and kisses Steve’s mouth, a dry gentle kiss. “Get on the bike.”

Steve nods and, with a hand pressed to his still bleeding side, he hops onto the bike with Maria Hill as his riding companion. Tony meets his gaze as if in confirmation. 

“Follow, and don’t lag behind, old man,” Tony jumps on the large bike with Pepper and Peter behind him. Steve hadn’t even had time to ask Peter about his status before the bikes take off.

He ducks low to clear the garage door and they speed along the highway. It becomes a test of his reflexes as they avoid the potholes, crashed vehicles, and more partial structures collapsed into the roadway from the razing of the city by Ultron. He allows Tony to lead the way because he hasn’t a clue as to where they are going, and Hill keeps an eye out on the road, pointing out objects and other obstacles. 

“Captain,” Tony says through the comm link.

Steve veers to avoid large crater in the roadway as they focus on the off ramp and then continue driving toward the lesser circles of the Inner Belt’s capital city. Once, he’d heard that the capital was circles upon circles, each circle smaller, each smaller circle closed and more privileged. They are following a line toward the Lessers, toward the servants, dregs of the Inner Belt’s main city. 

“Front of the bike, I think you’ll be happy to see it,” Tony says and careens in a loop of the road. 

He follows, smiling as the wind hits his face, and he realizes wrapped in leather on the front of his bike is his shield. That can only mean one thing. The Howling Commando is near, and he’s about to find his crew again. It occurs to him as he drives the bike that he doesn’t have any idea of what’s happened with the Chitauri attack.

“The attack by the Chitauri?”

“Moved off to the inner circles, Captain,” Tony says. “Nothing for us to worry about.”

“But Clint,” he says.

Tony only laughs and the bike ahead of him zooms forward with an almost carefree style of riding that takes Steve’s breath away. One day when they are free of this mess, he’ll take Tony riding, one day it won’t be about life and death. One day it will be about -.

His thoughts are cut off as several police buggers drop out of the sky and surround them. Without any warning they open fire. He weaves the bike as Tony swerves ahead of him. Over the communications, he hears Tony calling out.

“Looks like Ultron still doesn’t know where I am exactly. Otherwise he might not be firing on us,” Tony says. 

Steve zeroes in on trying to navigate through the post-battle destruction of the city and avoiding the shots impacting all around him from the police buggers. He grabs the shield in front of him and lets it sail into one of the bugger’s tailfins. It sputters and drops like a bird hitting a glass building. He races on the bike to catch up with the shield, plucks it out of the air, and flings it again toward another oncoming police vehicle. Hitting the windshield the glass splatters downward like a rain of piercing ice. As they crouch beneath the glass shards, he peers up to follow the arc of the shield to retrieve it. It clatters to the ground, but he follows it, leans the bike over to the farthest angle, scoops it up, and notches it back on the front of the bike. 

Hill yanks her own gun from her shoulder and covers them as they continue toward the overpass. Tony warns them. “Get ready to fly, Captain.”

Spinning around from targeting the buggers, Steve sucks in a breath at the missing road portion. Kicking the bike into high gear he rams it and then both bikes take flight. They hit the crumbled ramp on the other side in unison and their bikes screech in protest. It takes all of Steve’s strength to keep the bike upright and he flashes a glance over to Tony and finds his bike must have landed in a better spot. With a wink, Tony shoves the pedal down and spears the bike toward the outer most circle of the city. 

Steve gauges whether or not they will make it. At this rate and with the number of police vehicles following still increasing, he thinks not. 

“On the left, Captain, we’re coming up on it, on the left.” 

Steve nods but says nothing, knowing that Tony wouldn’t have caught his response, but at the same time, knowing that one isn’t necessary. Hill keeps an onslaught of fire exploding behind them, if only to cover as they maneuver toward the outer docks. 

“We’re not going to make it,” Steve huffs as another trio of buggers curve around them in the air. “They know our destination.”

“Yes, yes they do,” Tony says and then all hell breaks loose as they enter into the docking bay for the Howling Commando. The sniper pod is alive with fire blasting out of it. Its rounds burn across the sky like solar flare, scorching everything in its path. Buggers weren’t meant to defend against a cargo ship’s ammunition. Explosions like small novas light up the sky. 

Even as they hurry toward the Commando, another fleet of police vehicles pull up behind them, far enough away that the Commando cannot target them without taking out their bikes at the same time. A howl roars through the air and the ramp of the Commando descends. Bruce mid-transformation sprints across the tarmac with a single minded purpose. As he changes into the Hulk, he snatches the buggers out of the air like toy ships and smashes two of them together. 

Steve hits the accelerator, skims to a stop in front of the Commando as Tony follows suit. In seconds, they run toward the ship as the Commando and Hulk provide cover. 

“Hulk,” Steve calls as Tony drags him onto the ramp of the ship. The ship rumbles as it gears into drive. “Hulk.”

The great giant turns to the ship as it begins to hover. More police vehicles gather in the skies as drones and doom-bot join them on the ground and in mid-air. The Commando lifts off the ground with both Steve and Tony clinging to the side, waving Hulk to come on board.

Hulk bashes his way through the crowd of doom-bots skittering about him. He stomps on them and then dives his whole body toward the ramp. As the Commando launches the Hulk leaps and catches a finger hold of the ramp. 

Steve leans down to seize his great wrist. Heaving, he hoists the Hulk up onto the ramp way just as a bugger appears and sends a volley of fire at the Commando. Listing, the Commando tries to right itself and Steve wonders who might be at the controls. As it flies through the sky, it lurches suddenly due to a new attack from the police ships. The Commando tilts and Steve rolls down the ramp way as he screams for it to be lifted. It begins to close but the Commando is hit again, hard to the port side and the whole ship shudders with the impact. Next to him, Tony staggers and fights for purchase, but there is none and the ship jolts again. Tony plummets off of the ramp way as it closes. 

“No, no!” Steve races to the side panel, pushes the button to open it again. “Tony!”

All he sees is a single figure against the white and silver expanse of the city below, falling toward it, and death. 

“Bring the ship around,” Steve cries, slamming his fist against the side panel. His strength is for naught if he cannot help Tony. All this, all that they’ve gone through, he won’t give up yet. “Who the hell is flying my ship? Bring it around.” 

Seconds past, it is only moments until Tony hits the ground. At the same time, behind him he hears a crate unlock and he spins on his heels to see Pepper heave open one of Tony’s shipping crates. A suit of armor immediately encompasses her and, nodding once to him, she vaults out of the ship. Like a javelin straight toward her target, she bullets toward Tony. 

Through the flames and flashes of the fire fight, Steve holds his breath. The winds whips and batters at him as he stands with Bruce, Hill, and Peter watching to see if Pepper will be able to catch Tony. A final burst of her propulsion systems gives the armor enough power to catch up with him. She take hold of him and, instantly changes course to rocket back to the Commando. 

Who’s ever in the sniper pod, and Steve would bet it is Bucky, lays down a barrage of suppressing fire to cover their path back to the ship. In a tangle of arms and legs, they somersault back into the ship and Steve hits the controls to close up the ship. 

He feels the Commando launch, putting on speed as he sinks to the floor of the cargo bay and his head falls back against the bulkhead. 

“I have to teach you how to land better, woman. You nearly broke my collar bone,” Tony is saying in the distance. Hearing his voice, being free of his prison, sitting back in the Commando, Steve inhales and exhales. He knows it isn’t over yet, not by a long shot. But now, his bones lose all consistency, his muscles all tension. Someone’s arms are around him, holding him.

He opens eyes he didn’t know he closed to see Tony perched over him, on one knee. He touches his forehead to Steve’s. 

“We’re okay.”

Steve nods, but his mouth is dry and he fears his voice might break apart if he answers too quickly. Tony kisses his temple and settles beside him. Steve knows they don’t have time for this, stolen time now, means they will pay later. 

“Gotta get up,” Steve says and tries but Tony puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re bleeding all over the ship.”

“I’ll heal,” Steve murmurs and only wants this, this moment with Tony, even though they are not alone. He cups his hands on each side of Tony’s face. 

Tony kisses him, lightly, softly along the temple. 

Before he’s able to respond the ship’s sirens go off and he jerks to the sound of Natasha’s voice of the comm system.

“Breaking atmosphere, and we got more than a few drone ships on us.”

“Fun’s over,” Steve says and Tony sighs. 

“Always is,” Tony says and helps him to his feet. “Let’s go start a revolution, Captain.”


	26. Chapter 26

The ship judders violently, throwing him against the hull as Steve tries to climb the ladder up to the cockpit. Tony’s hand on his back steadies him and he continues upward with one purpose in mind – to get his ship clear. As he tops the cockpit level hands grab his upper arms and guide him. He finds Officer James Rhodes and Agent 13 on his ship.

He wants to ask, but knows there isn’t any time for it. Instead, he rushes toward the cockpit, wavering as the ship sustains multiple blows. Even as he enters the command center of the ship, he’s asking, “Do we have anyone else in the gunner’s--?” He swallows once and smiles. “Clint?”

Sitting next to Natasha in his navigation chair, Clint greets him with a jaunty half-assed salute. 

“What? How?” He wants to know everything, but realizes now is not the time.

Natasha only raises her eyebrow and says, “Let’s just call it cognitive recalibration.” She lifts a shoulder. “Once I found him with Loki’s crew, I hit him really hard on the head.”

Steve smiles, and he thinks it might be his first real smile in weeks. “Let’s get clear of this mess. Who’s in the pods?”

“We got Buck and Sam in the pods. I think they might be trying to outgun one another,” Natasha says as she struggles with the controls. “Give me a little speed, will you?”

Clint shakes his head. “We can’t get any more speed with this bucket. I need to figure out how the hell I’m going to plot a course without the Way Station markers.”

“Hoppers,” Steve says at the same time Tony echoes his words. Tony did get his clue and Steve smiles again. It’s good to be home, back on his ship with his people.

“I’m going to check on Bruce, see if we can soup this thing up and get it moving faster for you.” Tony squeezes his shoulder before racing back toward the ladder to the Engine room. 

“Sorry, what?” Clint looks worse for wear, like someone might have overused him, his eyes are bruised and his face gaunt. He’s threadbare and barely hanging on.

“You sure you’re all right to do this?”

“Are you?” Clint raises an eyebrow at him as he frowns.

“Are we finished with the love session because I got a fleet of First Patrol ships coming on our bow and another crap load coming aft. Don’t know if Ultron’s got his drones piloting or what the hell is going on.” Natasha curses then and hits a few of the gauges, throwing the ship in a wild arc. Steve reaches out and anchors himself on the bulkhead of the cockpit.

“Tell me about the hoppers?” Clint asks as he pulls out the navigation pad.

“Back in the day, before all the Way Stations were built we had buoys, like markers in space so that we could navigate without getting lost. They were dropped by unmanned space ships and oriented themselves toward-.”

The ship quakes as another round of fire collides with the hull. A yawning sound deep and terrifying reverberates through the ship. Hull integrity warnings blare.

Bucky comes over the comm link. “If you are going to get us the hell out of here, now would be a good time, Nat.”

“Captain?” Natasha says and he spots a streak of perspiration along her temple, so unlike her. She always cool, always in control.

“In order to find them you need to go to a specific frequency,” Steve says and has to reach back in his memory. It’s been ages since he’s used buoys.

“Are they still functioning?”

“We’ll see,” Steve replies and keys in a number of the hoppers that he can recall. “Find one of these, then we’ll plot the course to it and jump. From there we’ll need to skip, and hop from one to the next. It won’t be easy.”

“Easier than getting fried.” Clint hunkers down and in minutes, as Natasha battles the Commando to keep her moving and avoiding the incoming bombardment from the Patrol ships, he returns the pad to Steve to allow him to verify the course.

“Just do it,” Steve says and pushes it back to Clint. The numbers dance on the pad, eliciting a sickly feeling in his gut. The sway and shudder of the ship does nothing to help.

“Are you sure?” Clint asks.

Natasha eyes him, her expression steely. 

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

“Buckle in,” Natasha warns the rest of the Commando as Steve locks himself into the harness near the side of the cockpit.

As two more of the large Patrol ship converge on their position, Natasha punches it and the ship skips out into hyper dimensionality. It feels like it’s been years since he’s transitioned through space-time, but it hasn’t been. They settle back into normal space and before them is a small buoy, blinking and signaling their position.

“There she is,” Steve says.

Clint laughs. “God damn it, worked like a charm.”

“It shouldn’t have. That close to the planet we probably blew a damned whole in the fabric of space and sent the entire planet into a black hole,” Natasha says but she continues to work the controls.

“Well, sending that planet into a black hole doesn’t seem like the worse idea to me,” Clint mutters. “Whole damned Inner Belts can go with it, if you ask me.”

“You need to go get checked out by Bruce,” Steve says as he unbuckles the harness.

“What are we just going to float around in space for a bit or what?” Natasha says, and then looks him up and down. “You should talk, you really need someone to take a look at you.”

“Right, right,” he says and rubs his temple. Exhaustion creeps up like an insistent, insatiable lover. He desperately wants to fall into its embrace, but he needs to get his ship clear. He tightens up the harness. “Clint, do the calculations, I’m sure those hoppers I gave you are a direct line back to Earth.”

“Will do, might take a while. Why don’t you go take a load off,” Clint suggests. “I can do all of the calculations and we can do the skips in a series. But the calcs will take some time, and you need the break, Cap.”

He hesitates but Natasha chimes in. “I’ll make sure Bruce checks out Clint, but you really need to rest, Captain.”

He waits, weighing what he should do, but his choice is taken away from him when both Bruce and Bucky appear at the cockpit’s hatch. “We’re not jumping again anytime soon?” Bucky asks. The starry empty space outside the windscreen paints a bleak picture.

“It’ll be a bit, I got some calculations to do even with the jazzed up navigational program, Stark installed,” Clint says.

“Up we go then,” Bruce says to Steve. Bruce’s eyes are hollowed out pits; it’s always like that after he’s unleashed the Hulk. 

Steve’s protests fall on deaf ears as Bucky opens up the buckle of the harness and both of them hoist Steve to his feet. Putting weight on them reminds him that he not only had a severe break, but also sliced up his feet trying to escape the drones and doom-bots. 

As Bucky helps Steve, he keeps his eyes lidded, as if looking at Steve, facing the stark reality of what he’s gone through might call forth all the horror of his own past. The hell of torture is one thing, adding to it mind control and deprivation is a whole new level of depravity of the human spirit. Steve doesn’t call Bucky on it, how can he when all he wants to do is forget?

Without further word, Bruce and Bucky guide him to the guest quarters. The adrenaline rush now drained, a loopiness feeling overtakes him. When Bucky goes to open the hatch to the quarters, Steve leans against Bruce but tries not to, Bruce specifically moves to welcome the weight. No words are spoken between them, but Steve understands that Bruce gets it.

The bed is already out and the linens pulled back. Tony waits in the small space, his eyes skipping about like he’s searching for fire. “Finally.”

“Sorry,” Steve says and lands heavily on the bed. He shouldn’t be lying down, he has to worry about the ship, get them clear to the Rendezvous Point, find out how this all happened, make sure that Peter is okay, check on Pepper, and Tony – he has to find out if Ultron hurt him – in any way.

“Shush,” Tony says and curls his fingers in Steve’s hair. “You’re vibrating enough to send us into the next hyper jump.”

Before Steve responds, Peter invites himself into the small quarters and hands Bruce his medical bag.

“Shouldn’t someone be-.” Steve starts but Tony’s pushing him down onto the clean sheets and all Steve can think about is how he’s bound to stain them and they don’t have the water to launder more than the basics. 

“It’s good,” Tony is saying but Steve has no idea what he’s referring to.

At some point, Bruce cuts off the tunic and the bandage holding Steve’s side together. Tony hisses and Peter gags. It surprises him how many people crowd into the confined space. Bruce pulls away the bandages, and Tony cleans away the filth. Peter must step out at some point because Maria Hill re-appears and she’s working an intravenous line. He wants them to stop, but the fatigue claims him and he allows it. He doesn’t notice when they finish or if the ship transitions through another hyper dimensionality jump, because the next thing he knows he’s blinking awake and Tony is spooned up next to him asleep.

He should think it ridiculous, considering his size and the fact that Tony conceived to make him the little spoon, but for a moment he luxuriates in the feeling of being safe, being quiet, being in the arms of someone he loves.

His shoulders still complain from being trussed up for so long, and when he moves them incrementally, he groans as the joints impinge on nerves. Tony jerks awake and jumps up to check on him.

“Hey, hey? You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m fine.” He turns onto his back as Tony readjusts to cuddle next to him, being careful of his lingering injuries. “Are you, did he, it hurt-?”

Tony leans over him and places fingers on his lips. The only light in the cabin glows from his arc reactor, and somehow it soothes and calms Steve. “Yes, yes he hurt me.” 

The words slice deep into Steve and he closes his eyes. “How, what did he do?”

“Oh sweet Jesus, don’t you know,” Tony says and places a kiss soft and supple on his lips. He lets his lips stay, not moving, not really kissing. It links Tony to him. And then he slowly drops his head, bowing it, and leaving his forehead in line with Steve’s lips. “Jesus, fuck, what he did to you.”

“Don’t Tony, I said I heal. Look at me now, I’m good, I’m fine,” Steve says and looks down for the first time since he awoke. There’s an intravenous line fed into his hand and most of the lashes are pink welts now while the burn to the side looks remarkably better, not a gaping wound anymore. 

“You didn’t look fine at all, I’m surprised you could even make it out of there on your feet, your bare feet.” 

“When the need arises I’ve always been able to push past the injuries,” Steve says and wonders if he’s talking post serum or not, it feels strange not to know. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. The juggernaut of events collide and smash in his brain so much that it feels like he’s reliving everything at once. 

“Hey, hey,” Tony says and his hands grip Steve’s shoulders. He sits up next to Steve, searching for something unnamed, unspoken. “Tell me you’re all right, Steve, tell me this didn’t break you.”

The ruin of Tony’s voice strikes him, hard like a hammer to the chest. It hurts more than a thousand lashes. “What, Tony, what?” Steve shifts and starts to rise, only to have Tony ease him back into the bed. Something is wrong, terribly wrong, and Steve’s been resting, sleeping. He hasn’t checked on his crew, he doesn’t know where they are, hell, he doesn’t even know who is on the ship. And now, Tony, Tony looks more than ruined. He looks devastated, distraught, as if Ultron truly has won.

“What? Tony, what is it?”

When Steve’s hand falls onto his shoulder, Tony tenses, and then shifts to climb out of their cocoon. Steve swallows back his fear, but the anxiety clenches like a fist in his belly. 

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go, you know,” Tony says and he begins a frantic, almost jittery type of pacing in the small dark space. Steve can only follow the light of his arc reactor in the room. “When I set out to do this, when I decided it would be you, I didn’t want. I never planned for it to happen this way. You have to believe me. This isn’t what I wanted at all.”

With more than a little effort, Steve follows Tony out of bed and flicks on the lights. He balances carefully on his healing foot and ankle. As Tony steps back and forth in the cramped space of the guest quarters, he curves his one hand over his arc reactor and taps it harder and harder as he speaks.

“This wasn’t the plan. The plan, I had one once, you know?” He taps – one, two, one two in a rhythm as he paces. “I wanted to change something, change the damned world. I had this god damned vision, because I’m some kind of futurist. Great futurist right, really great, can’t even predict what will happen if you go up against a maniac artificial intelligence.” His taps grow harsher; he isn’t using a single finger anymore, but his whole fist. Harder, pounding against the casing of the arc reactor. “The plan was to have a revolution, to get you to lead it – to go to Ultron and-.”

“Tony, Tony,” Steve says and captures his hands to still him. “I know what the plan was, I was there.”

Tony searches his eyes, and for a single moment Steve sees only a lost soul, so despondent and bereft he bites back words of pity. 

“No, you don’t fucking get it, Captain, I planned this to have you at my side. You.” Tony runs a hand down Steve’s bare chest, the healing skin warm to the touch. “You, I did it because my father, told me.”

“I know, Tony, I know,” Steve says and grabs his free hand to cup them against his chest. “I went freely, and willingly. This is what I wanted as well. You know that.”

“I picked you, though,” Tony says and cringes as he glances over the wounds still marking Steve’s torso. “My father told me stories about you and I believed him.” He tugs a hand away and traces a light line along Steve’s jaw. “And it’s all true, you know. I bet, I bet you don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?” Steve asks his voice low, non-threatening because Tony reminds him of a frightened animal, terrified and seeking solace. 

“I told you my father used Ringers, right?”

“Yes.” Steve has no idea what this is all about.

“A drug addict, and you know why?” 

Steve only shrugs, it tears a bit at the newly healed skin over his wounds, but he keeps on his feet with the sole purpose of supporting Tony, figuring out Tony. “No?”

“Because he couldn’t, he couldn’t figure out a way to do what he wanted to do,” Tony says. “He wanted to find you and he couldn’t, because he knew you could change things.”

Steve raises a hand up, cups Tony’s cheek in his hands, and quiets him. “Tony, I’m not a savior or a messiah. I’m just kid from the Rims. I know your dad told you stories about me, but I’m doing this not out of some kind of sacred design, but because it is the right thing to do.”

“But you’d just be-.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’d just being hauling my ass around from one Rim world back to the Inner Belts if you hadn’t woken me up. I slept a long time, longer still than I realized. Until you came along and woke me up, gave me hope again that trying to do this, this thing we’re trying to do is worth it. It’s bigger than us. So much bigger. You gave me that hope again, I slept but now, because of you I am finally awake.”

Tony closes his eyes and leans forward, his forehead resting on Steve’s shoulder. He slumps in Steve’s arms as they embrace. “I couldn’t watch, I’m sorry, I couldn’t watch.”

Steve only nods in silence. He rubs gently along the ridge of Tony’s spine. 

“What he did, he forced me to-watch-and damn it, damn it to hell,” Tony says and peers up at Steve. The ferocity is back again, but also within that determination is a sorrow. “I wanted a soldier, and what I got was love.”

Steve’s mouth is dry and it’s hard to form words, but he asks anyhow. “Is that so bad?”

“No, no, it’s so much better, but worlds worse, too,” Tony says. “A soldier – is a pawn, someone to be used and lost, but I can’t do that to you, I can’t do that to any of your little crazy band here.” 

“Come, lie down,” Steve says and he leads Tony back to the bed. He drops onto the mattress with an audible huff. As they sit side by side, Steve says, “I don’t know where you got the idea that to go to war you need to act like you don’t care about the players, the pawns.” Steve curls his fingers in quotes around the word pawns. “That’s not the way to lead a team, Tony. If you want to lead, the best leaders care.”

“Then how?”

“Have you ever heard the story of D-day?”

“D-day? Not sure.”

“Way back in the pre-space days there was a pretty horrible war, called World War Two. In order to end the rule of a pretty tyrannical lunatic, the Generals planned on something called D-Day, where they would hit the beaches with an all-out assault. 

“The night before it was to take place, the leaders went and talked to the men, the soldiers they were going to ask to race into the onslaught of bullets and bombs onto a beach and take it, essentially with their bodies and blood. They spent time with these men, these boys, thanking them, getting them ready to give their lives to save the world. And you know what these leaders thought?”

Tony remains quiet at Steve’s side. Grasping his hand, Steve continues, “They mourned, they knew they wouldn’t see the vast majority of those men again. That those were the last hours of those men, those boys’ lives. They mourned and hated it, but they knew it had to be done to save the world, Tony. You never, ever want to become so distant and cold to your people, your cause, that you don’t care that the pawns, the soldiers, your soldiers are willing to die for the cause.”

“We’re not soldiers,” Tony mutters.

“No, no we’re not, but we’re the best hope anyone has,” Steve says with a squeeze to Tony’s hand. “We’re the best hope.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow. “Well, that’s kind of pathetic.”

Steve snorts a little and says, “People have won wars with a lot less.”

“You think?”

“An idea that won’t go away, a resolution in the hearts and minds of the people – you can’t fight. We do this, we have to do it for everyone in Human Space,” Steve says. “We have to win the hearts and minds of the people. And how do we do that, Sir Stark?”

Tony flashes him a smile. “Give them what they want, give them the independence from Ultron.”

“Exactly.”

“And that would mean, taking back the Rag-nets and Grids, taking it all back,” Tony says.

“Now, you’re talking,” Steve says and pushes back on the bed, settling with his back against the wall. He sighs and closes his eyes. Even though he’s healed somewhat, he still has a long way to go. It will take at least two or three days. 

Frowning, Tony crawls over to Steve and sits by his side. “Sorry, I shouldn’t break down like that. You’re still healing.”

“A bit,” Steve says and he’s weary but there’s still too much to do and he needs to get caught up. “How’d you manage it, you know, plan out the whole rescue and escape?”

“It wasn’t hard. Once I got my head on straight, I realized Ultron would have to give me a certain amount of access to the mainframes. I agreed to do a bit of what he wanted.”

Steve listens and closes his eyes, but prompts Tony with a slight wave of his hand. 

“I agreed to help him to a certain degree. My intention was to get you out, but to also stop him from torturing you,” Tony stops and swallows hard. “Fat lot of good that did, sadistic bastard. Anyhow, I knew I had to get into the mainframe or his monitoring systems so that I could get your prison offline. It wasn’t too difficult. With your prison tube shut out of the system and a dummy feed in place, it was a cinch. With Natasha introducing Hill to me, it was just a few steps from there. She didn’t do me any favors when she decided to go traipsing off to save Barton’s ass.”

“You should have focused on disabling Ultron,” Steve says.

“Ever the martyr, Captain?” Tony shakes his head. “I tried. Ultron has his code isolated in a very secure, very difficult to access virtual tunnel frame.”

“What?”

“Well, that’s the name I gave it. It looks like Ultron has taken his own code, secured it so that it cannot be accessed by anyone without his knowledge. It is a virtual isolation, not hardware.”

“What does that mean exactly? Not an expert here, for me it just looks like it runs on some kind of electricity,” Steve says and opens his eyes.

“It means that Ultron is the ultimate programmer, within the computer frames of Human Space, he’s created a space that’s _other_ , that’s- how do I explain it – like in hyper dimensionality – it another dimension to protect his code.” 

“How is that even possible?” Steve says and the weariness creeps further, deeper, and feels like it’s rooting not only in his bones, but in his soul. 

How can they fight something that doesn’t even value life, that is not truly alive?

“Ultron is brilliant.”

“Then why did he need you?” Steve asks, because in the end they have to know. Steve has to understand how much danger Tony is actually in.

“Because for all his fancy trickery, he doesn’t understand humans. In order to become human – which I believe is his ultimate fantasy – he has to understand them.”

“I thought he just believed humans were below him, why would he want to become human?”

“Not become, maybe I shouldn’t use that word,” Tony says and scratches at his beard. “Replace? Yeah, that’s better, he wants to replace humans with a better version of humans in his image.”

Steve presses his fingers into his eyes and sighs. That deep abiding desperation feels like its dug into him, wove itself into his soul. “I’m tired.”

Tony grabs his hand, and brings it to his lips. “I know, I shouldn’t be talking about this now.”

“I asked you,” Steve says.

“Yeah, but you need your sleep.”

Turning to him, Steve smiles and says, “I need something else more.” Steve encompasses Tony in his arms, and they slide down the bed.

“What about your injuries?” Tony says as Steve kisses a light line up and down the inside of his throat. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Healed, or healing,” Steve murmurs into Tony’s warmth. “I just want to feel you Tony, I want to feel your hands on me, I want to forget-.” And he suddenly remembers when Tony asked him to hurt him, to hit him and gag him because he wanted to remember Steve when his then mysterious sponsor did those things to him. And now, now that they know who or what Ultron is, that Ultron tormented them both.

“I want to touch you, I want to know you’re real,” Tony is saying as Steve adjusts onto the bed, flipping Tony over him. 

“I’m real, you won’t hurt me.”

Tony brushes his lips over the jut of Steve’s shoulder, and then inward to the tender spots near his throat, mimicking what Steve had just done. He hesitates again and Steve chimes in with a low whisper, “I’m fine, just touch me, Tony.”

Tony runs his hands down Steve’s shoulder to his chest and the little sighs of relief, of feeling Tony close to him, touching him, comes to him and he luxuriates in the pleasure of it. Tony smiles at him, regarding him with some fondness. 

“I never thought it was possible, you know,” Tony says and feather light kisses Steve on his lips, his eyelids, his temple, and then down to his shoulder, the hollow of his throat, and following on to his nipples, his flank. “I never thought when I set out to change the world, I would find this.”

“Find this,” Steve mumbles and bathes in the richness of Tony’s caress. 

“I didn’t think it was possible for me to find this, to find,” Tony stops and peers up at him. The open look on his face wrecks Steve, because it can only be an expression from someone who never believed they deserved love, or commitment, or adoration.

“Tony,” Steve says and pulls him into a kiss. The union of their kiss remains an ever consuming action; it robs him of breath, it possesses his soul, it becomes his single obsession. It becomes a desperation, an act of need and want. He finds he cannot stop, he rakes his hands, his nails across and down Tony’s back, eliciting a moan of urgency that only draws him into the whirl of desire, the frantic empty need of it. Desire is the understanding that there at his core resides an emptiness that can only be filled, corrected, fixed by Tony, he works and pushes and begs as he runs his tongue along the curvature of Tony’s spine, along the swell of his ass. He begs and pleads and the next thing he knows Tony has him, holds him, works him with a stroking need. 

He thrusts up into Tony’s hand, wanting this, but also longing for so much more. The texture of it, the feel of it is harsh and unrelenting. He hasn’t asked for lube, he doesn’t really want any, the pain of the burn mixed with the pleasure of the hunt for his orgasm sets him on fire. He has no idea what happened to their sleeping pants, he doesn’t care. He’s grunting, moaning into Tony’s shoulder, grappling with him, and holding on to his arms. He’s sure that he’s bruising, leaving marks, but the yearning blinds him to all caution. 

Through it all, Tony urges him. “Come on, babe, there, there. Come on, show me. Come for me, babe.” And then he does a tiny swipe along the head of Steve’s erection, thumbing the slit and sending Steve over the edge until he cries out through his climax. It rips out of his gut, turns him inside out and over again, until he’s pulsating and his skin feels aflame. Tony strokes him through it, pulling out the last of any energy left, the last tendrils of desire and need until he’s glassy eyed and loose, and boneless on the bed.

As he blinks back to awareness, Tony is bending over him and cleaning up the mess. He’s tidying things, checking on the minor welts, the large injury to his side. “Tony, I didn’t. I can do you?”

Tony smiles at him, softly, beautifully. “Shush, sweetheart, I’m already done.” Steve grimaces in confusion. With a caress to the side of Steve’s face, Tony says, “Seeing you undone, did me over. Couldn’t hold it back if I tried.” He kisses Steve, a chaste, blessed touch of lips. “My beloved.”

In moments, Tony finishes his task. He doesn’t allow Steve to help, but then he cuddles next to him and drifts to sleep. Lying there with Tony tucked against him, Steve doesn’t let nightmares follow him, and only welcomes the dreams of a better place.


	27. Chapter 27

The journey to Earth takes them over twice as long as it normally would considering the need to take shorter jumps and to calculate the hopper points. Tony dedicates himself to mapping out the hoppers to assist the navigation and to program it into the computer. It surprises Steve how Tony and Clint snip at each other one minute and joke the next, but they get the work done and the job can be frustratingly tedious. 

After a few days holed up in the guest quarters, Steve learns that they have a full house on board. He takes an accounting, and checks to ensure everyone has a comfortable place to bed down at night. Bruce has taken Peter under his wing and set up a cot in the Engine room for the boy, while the mysterious Agent 13 (who he recalls is named Sharon) shares the Captain’s quarters with Pepper and Maria. He’s not sure how they are working out the sleeping arrangements, but he suspects they are doing rotating shifts. Bucky and Natasha stay in the pilot’s quarters, leaving Clint. Sam, and Rhodes to bed down in the racks. It isn’t the best situation and he’s concerned they will run out of food and water long before they reach Earth. He puts everyone on a strict rationing plan as soon as Bruce releases him from medical care. 

Each sleep cycle, Steve drops into bed with Tony at his side. Sometimes, Tony wrestles out a pad that he’s downloaded JARVIS onto and projects the stars over their bed. Steve quizzed Tony about JARVIS, hadn’t he lost him with the destruction of the Chromes and all of his possessions there. Tony only snickered and rolled his eyes with a _oh Captain, my Captain_. Later Steve finds out from Pepper that the shipping containers have, not only armored suits, but a menagerie of tech. When Tony’s not following Steve around the ship or badgering Bruce, he can be found in one of the containers puttering away.

The nights become a constant fight, a struggle. Sometimes he sleeps like the dead, other times he stares at the stars projected and talks with JARVIS as Tony cuddles up next to him softly snoring. When he does sleep, the memories invade his dreams and he startles awake only to have Tony rub his back and quiet him, again. Ultron might not have won, yet, but to Steve, it feels like he’s won a victory in his head. He pushes on, the journey has just begun.

It isn’t the same. The journey feels different. It isn’t like a regular haul now, even though they aren’t on edge specifically, everyone remains vigilant and anxious. When Steve tries to inquire about Pepper’s state, Tony only waves him off. He’s able to corner Pepper in the galley one day. She’s making a cup of tea and finally alone.

He halts at the entrance to the galley; hesitating, his brain skipping along trying to find the right words to say. She looks up from the counter as if she feels the weight of his stare on his back. Peering over her shoulder, her hands stop dunking the teabag and she turns back to her task at hand. 

“Captain.” She pulls the bag from the steaming water, and, without a spoon, uses her fingers to squeezes the bag and toss it to the refuse. 

“Ms. Potts,” Steve says and his voice sounds light, almost fearful in his ears. He clears his throat and tries again. “I wanted to-.”

“Captain,” she says and turns around to face him. Her eyes are fierce, daring him to confront her.

“I just wanted to,” he begins again. “Check and make sure you’re doing okay.”

“Fine, I’m fine,” she says and waits. 

The air between them thickens and, for the first time in a long time, he drags in air in lungs that are frozen, don’t want to move. He nods. “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“And you? Captain, are you good?” 

As he starts to answer, her façade cracks and she sighs, slightly, almost imperceptibly. He aborts his original, neutral answer. “Ms. Potts, I’m sorry you had to do that, I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Her lips thin and she shakes her head, the high ponytail of her hair swings back and forth. “No, no, you don’t get to do that.” The intensity strumming about her nearly causes Steve to back down.

He doesn't. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I am that you had to, that you had to - that Ultron forced you to do that," Steve says and his mouth feels unnaturally dry.

She sets the mug down on the table and considers him; her eyes are not unkind. "It wasn't your choice, Captain, and you have nothing to be sorry about, or apologize for."

"I think I do," Steve says and he wants to explain to her, to show her, demonstrate to her that he shouldn't have shown weakness, he shouldn't have reacted or cried out when the whip hit him at all. He'd wanted to muffle his reactions, his pain to spare her. It wasn't right that she was made to suffer.

"It wasn't your choice at all, Captain. You never asked Ultron, did you? Did you ask him to pick me to whip you?"

He shakes his head and already knows she understands this, that she's leading him down a path of her choosing, but he cannot deny her because she's been denied her choice before and he won't do that to her.

She stops looking at him and he thinks for a moment, she's broken but when she raises her eyes again, there's a fierceness that pierces through him like a spear. "I'm glad it was me, and not Tony. Can you imagine how he would feel, what it would have done to him?"

The thought horrifies Steve, and he is at once disgusted and terrified at his reaction. That he would be grateful it was Pepper and not Tony, rolls complex emotions together and ratchets up the guilt.

“Don’t do that,” Pepper says and her perception, her ability to read him is almost uncanny. “I did it for Tony. Yes, it was horrible, and yes I still have nightmares about it, about you, and how yo-.” She gulps back the rest and blinks her eyes several time. Once she regains her composure she starts again. “Tony loves you.”

He lifts his chin and then slowly nods. This is something that they hadn’t broached before. Is he stepping in her territory, did he break other dreams of hers? “Yes,” he admits because she already knows. “And I love him.”

“You have to understand, Tony loves very rarely,” Pepper says. “But what he does even less, if there is a possibility – is trust. You see, Tony has only had a handful of people in his life that he trusted and most of those people betrayed him in one way or another. His father, Maya, Stane. The list goes on and on.”

Steve remains silent, but the truths she speaks vibrate through him. He knows something, something important and monumental about Tony’s psyche is about to be revealed. 

“To be trusted by Tony, to be loved by Tony is one thing but to have both, is a very, very rare and odd thing.” Pepper says and stares down at her cooling tea. “Tony trusts and loves three people, Captain, and you are one of them. Col Rhodes and myself are the other two.”

“I still don-.”

“No, you still don’t understand,” Pepper continues. “Tony gave his love to you, for him to give his trust to you is enormous. Trust is not something Tony gives lightly, he may try on love, but he never tries on trust. You either have it or you don’t with Tony.”

“I’m not following, Ms. Potts,” Steve says.

“Tony can love far more easily than he can trust. If he had to whip you, if Ultron made him do it, he would not have been able to be with you anymore,” Pepper says. “And he means the world to me and I won’t see him bereft of hope.”

The words are both comforting and upsetting. He fumbles around for a response but he’s the same guy from all those years ago, skinny, weak, and terrified of women. “I don’t mean to hurt you Ms. Potts, you were kind to me, helped me on Stane’s ship. I don’t think I would have survived without your help.”

“That’s a bit of exaggeration,” Pepper says and she sighs as if she tired of the heartache. “I just want Tony to be happy. You make him happy. He lost his family and everything that was important to him. Now, you’ve given it all back to him.”

Self-effacing, Steve laughs. “As a band of merry outlaws?”

She smiles. “Robin Hood and his band of merry men? No, you are more than a story, Captain, you and Tony, this whole thing.” She circles her hand around as if to indicate the whole of the Commando. “This whole thing gives everyone hope.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potts,” Steve says.

She only nods and then excuses herself, leaving her tea mug on the table. He picks it up but realizes it’s gone cold. Standing there, a uselessness overwhelms him and he sets the mug back on the table. He should clean it up, but as he stares into the liquid voices penetrate his reverie.

Looking up, Steve greets Peter and Bruce as they entered into the kitchen galley. 

“You’re looking better,” Bruce says and claps him on the shoulder while ushering the youth into the small kitchen. “We’re just stopping and getting some lunch.”

“Good, good,” Steve says and empties the mug. 

“Are you eating?” Bruce asks and levels a glare at him that clearly indicates Steve should answer in the affirmative. 

“Yeah, yes, I suppose,” Steve says and knows he shouldn’t indulge. They have at least another few days in space since they finished the last hyper dimensionality jump and are in the middle of gliding into the solar system toward Earth. 

“You are eating,” Bruce states and rummages through the nearly empty cupboards. “We only have a few days left and you haven’t been eating enough calories.”

“Energy bars, it’s where it’s at,” Steve remarks but sits down at the table, waving Peter to join him. “Bruce keeping you busy?”

“Yeah, he, he’s got a lot of stuff, well, weird ass stuff down in engineering,” Peter says and scrubs at the back of his neck. “I’ve been helping out with some of the upgrades.”

“Upgrades?” Steve peers over at Bruce as he empties some of a sauce into a pot. “What are you and Stark doing to my ship?”

“Keeping it together,” Bruce says. “And you know, I think I have some curry I finagled from Sam the last time we were on Earth. I’m going to get it.” He leaves the galley and disappears down the passageway.

Steve turns back to Peter, who keeps his eyes averted from him. “Peter, how are you really doing?”

Peter shrugs. “What do you want me to say?” He looks everywhere but at Steve. “I thought getting off Haven was some kind of good deal, and then look at it out here?” 

“I know,” Steve says. “Once we get to Earth, you’ll be safe.”

“What about the other kids? Harley, and Ian, even Ana-Rose? They’re stuck on Parson’s Point with that creep’s men keeping them – if they’re even alive. Aunt May…” Peter pounds the table with his fist. “Bastard, you should have seen how he made Ana-Rose cry. Then the other kids, like Gwen, she was so upset, and I couldn’t do anything- what if-what if he hurt them?”

Steve holds up his hands to quiet Peter. “We’ll figure this out, Peter.”

“How?” Peter throws up his hands and huffs. “You got a war going on, who the hell cares about a bunch of kids?”

“I care,” Steve says. “We all care.”

By this time, Bruce has returned but stays back in the passageway, hanging to the side waiting for Steve and Peter to finish. 

“But kids, nobody really cares, I mean we’re nobodies. What’s going to happen to them?” Peter says and Steve pulls the twelve year old into his arms. Peter tucks his head into Steve’s shoulder and while he doesn’t sob, the emotions wreck him. “I saw what they did to you, you can’t go back. If they get you again, I saw, I saw.”

It’s so easy to declare _I heal_ and throw away the concern and worry, but, for the first time, Steve comprehends how unhelpful and careless those words must really be for others. He thinks about Tony and Pepper, every one of his crew. He’s stated, _I’ll heal_ again and again without really considering the after effects. Peter saw him right after his rescue.

“Peter,” Steve says and pulls away. Though his eyes are red-rimmed, the youth hasn’t shed tears. “Sometimes, it isn’t about what they’re going to do to an individual, sometimes it’s about what we can do as a team.”

“A team, I saw your team. So not impressed,” Peter scoffs.

Steve hangs his head and smirks. “Always the critic, Peter?” 

Peter shares his smile, if only for a second, but then his expression drops and he says, “If you don’t make it, what do we got? You know?”

“I’m here, we’re all here, Peter.” Steve clasps a hand over the boy’s white fisted knuckles. “What we’re doing here will change everything – for the better.”

Peter considers what Steve says and then he murmurs in a low voice. “My uncle-.”

“Uncle Ben?” Steve says and recalls how hard it hit everyone on the settlement when Ben died from a drone of Hammer’s. There are evil Corps out there, ones that would pair up with the Main Chamber, and now Ultron and do his bidding in order to grab a small piece of the power pie. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter says with a sniffle. “Uncle Ben once told me something when I said that I wanted to change things, that I had a vision. He told me that I could do it, you know. He said I had the power because I’m so smart.” He shakes his head. “So smart, didn’t help him any, still got killed.”

“He was right, you are a smart kid,” Steve says.

“Not smart enough. But he told me that with great power comes great responsibility. I didn’t understand what he meant when he said that to me. But I get it now, I really do. You have a lot of responsibilities now, your own team does-.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re going to leave the other kids and Aunt May behind,” Steve says and looks over to Bruce. “Bruce, you want to leave Aunt May and the kids behind?”

“Nope, Aunt May’s got some of the best biscuit recipes around,” Bruce says as he invites himself back into the kitchen.

“See?” Steve says. “We’re going to get them, we’re not going to forget them.”

“Forget who?” Tony says and he walks into the galley to join them. “You cooking, I’m starved.”

“Guess I could add a few servings,” Bruce says and retrieves a bigger pot. 

“The kids,” Steve says. “Peter’s worried about his friends and Aunt May.”

“No reason to worry about them,” Tony says and places a booted foot on the bench. “Because we have to go to Parson’s Point anyway.”

“Oh, we do, do we?” Steve says and leans back in his chair, folding his arms and waiting for the explanation.

“Yes, we do,” Tony says and Steve sees the glint in his eye, the shine that tells him something powerful and dangerous is brewing in Tony’s brilliant but slightly warped mind. “I’ve given a lot of thought about what you want to do, take the Rag-nets and the Grids away from Ultron.”

“That’s the only way to get communication back on line. We can use the hoppers to navigate but the communications links aren’t great without the nets and grids.” 

“Exactly, the hoppers are craptastic when it comes to communication and just about as craptastic for navigation.” Tony comes forward and says, “But what we need is a solid way to bring the grids and nets on line and the only way I can do that is with access to JARVIS.”

“But I thought,” Steve frowns. “I thought what you had on your pads was JARVIS.”

“That’s a scaled down version,” Tony replies. “Very scaled down.”

“So, what’s on Parson’s Point other than the kids?” Bruce chimes in as he stirs the pot on the stove top.

“My ship.”

“Your ship again?” Steve shakes his head as he stands up. He pats Peter on the back as a way to check in with him and ensure that the youth feels steadier now. Peter only nods in respond. “Just going and getting a luxury liner is too dangerous.”

“I agree but what I have on my ship is more than luxury, it’s where I have the bulk of my tech stored.”

“And Stane has it, access to it. He’s probably striped it down by now,” Steve says and steals a slice of bread from the board where Bruce is cutting it. 

“If he can even get into it,” Tony says. “It’s rigged only to me. He can’t get into it. And we have no way of knowing that he even made it off the capital planet of the Inner Belts.”

“He did,” Peter says.

They all turn to the young man and it is Steve who asks, “Peter?”

“Yeah, he did,” Peter says. “I overheard Ultron and Pepper talking.”

“Talking?” Tony’s voice is tight. “Talking?”

“Yeah, like he wanted to find out where Stane went and he was grilling her,” Peter says and rubs the back of his neck.

“And then?”

“And then my great savior walked into the room and drew Ultron’s attention away from me,” Pepper says as she walks into the room, ruffles her fingers through Peter’s hair. “That smells great, Bruce.”

“The more the merrier, but I think I need a bigger pot.”

The meal turns into a half-celebration, half-last supper as the whole crowd of crew and passengers end up in the galley, some seated around the table, others perched on the countertop, and everyone else scattered on the floor. He watches all of them partake in their first meal where Steve hasn’t rationed or called into question how much they are eating since they should be landing within days. 

He finds out that Hill was sent uncover by Fury. They’d both left SHIELD after they were sure it had been infiltrated by nefarious forces, though by whom they can’t say. Some think it might be those loyal to Ultron.

“I just don’t get why anyone would be loyal to a robot who wants to wipe out human existence. Hello, kind of self-defending,” Peter says as they tuck into their meal.

Sam chews and says around the thick stew. “Money, power, all has to do with position in this glorious class system we got going for us.”

“Most people think they should just hitch their wagon onto the latest rising star, and they can ride it all the way up,” Tony says with a shrug. “Most people don’t realize that all stars fall.”

“Only problem with that logic is that Ultron isn’t just the latest and greatest human dictator ready to sacrifice anyone for his own maniacal ideas, he’s very much an artificial intelligence who will and does plan on complete dominance of humanity.”

That comes from Agent 13 or, as Steve should call her, Sharon. She’s smart and sharp and seems to know her way around a gunner’s pod, the pilot’s chair, and espionage. 

“Exactly, so he’s not vulnerable to the likes of human frailties,” Tony says.

“But he does seem vulnerable to ego. He wants to rule, he wants to dominant all humans,” Steve pitches in. “Seems he still very driven by some human desires.”

“Can we use that?” Bruce asks as he ladles more of the stew into Clint’s and Steve’s bowls without either of them asking.

“We’ll have to use everything at our disposal,” Steve states as he scoops up more of the stew. It sits satisfyingly in his belly. He doesn’t think he’s been this full the entire trip and he needs the nutrients after his recent experiences.

“One thing we can use is that ego,” Tony says. “He won’t expect us to outwit him. He thinks he can out think all of us.”

“But one thing he doesn’t have is the element of chaos,” Natasha says. “He’s completely ruled by logic. He can’t predict the unpredictable.”

“That’s something we’ll need to exploit. If we can figure out what he’d predict we’ll do – do it while doing something else, we’ll have the perfect cover,” Steve says.

“Our goal is to get the nets and grids, if we can do that-.” Tony starts.

“Then we’ll control communication and we can figure out how to access his virtual holding place for his code.”

“And Captain, that is where JARVIS comes in. I need access to my ship so that I can use JARVIS to compute how to get to his code. Computing power on this ship, on my pad just doesn’t add up to much.”

In the end, Steve has to agree, they need all of the resources they can manage to glue together. Tony’s ship with its computing power might be the key. He does convince Tony to try and figure out a way to use what they have on Earth before they decide to head off to raid Parson’s Point for the ship. He knows he’ll have to end up back at Parson’s – he understands he cannot leave the children there, but at the same time, he has to balance out what needs to be done with when it should be done.

As he and Tony head off to their quarters for their sleep cycle, Peter catches him and says, “You’ll go after them, right?”

“I will, Peter, I promise.”

“I just, if you don’t, I’m gonna have to do it myself,” Peter replies and the honesty in his expression hurts. 

He holds Peter’s shoulder. “Peter Parker, you forever think you have to do things on your own. You don’t, believe me, you don’t.”

Peter offers him a weak smile and disappears down the passageway toward the cockpit. He likes to hang out with Clint after hours. Steve watches for a moment, before Tony calls him back to the quarters. When Steve steps through the hatch of the quarters, Tony slides a hand around his waist near the area where he’d been wounded by Ultron. Without thought, Steve jumps and whips around with a wild swing. He very nearly smacks Tony on the side of the head. As it is, he cuffs him in the jaw and Tony staggers backward with a huff.

“Damn it, Tony, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Steve says and rushes to his side.

Tony presses on his jaw and tests it by opening and closing his mouth. “Ow, quite a swing you got there, Captain.”

“I’m sorry, you just startled me,” Steve says and yanks the portal hatch closed. He flexes his hands to work out the tremor.

“Steve, it’s all right to admit that you need a little space, you know,” Tony says and walks over to the head. He disappears into the small bathroom. He brings out a small cup of water. “Drink.”

He sips the water and tries to ignore the slight trembling of his hand. He sets the water aside and wipes a hand through his hair then goes to pull down the bed from the wall.

“I could do-.”

“No, I can do it,” Steve says and, without much effort, brings the bed down and clicks the feet into place. The phantom pain in his side subsides and he breathes easier as he adjusts the blankets. 

Tony leaves for a moment to go to the bathroom and, after he finishes, Steve slips into the head and closes the small hatch behind him. He stares at his face in the tiny mirror and leans forward, letting his forehead touch the cool glass. He thought he had this all under control; everything was fine, he’s safe. He shouldn’t be touchy or even shocked by anything that happened. 

“Leave it behind, Rogers,” Steve mutters as he washes up with a bit of water. He finishes up and returns to the main quarters. 

Tony’s already in bed, waiting for him, his arms folded under his head as he silently observes Steve. He stays quiet as Steve crosses over and turns off the lights. Crawling into bed, Steve slides under the covers and settles in.

After a moment, he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Tony says.

“I thought I had this all under control. Guess not,” Steve says and a shiver overtakes him as he admits it out loud that maybe, just maybe his everyday routine cracks and fragments, decays into the night. 

Tony lays his hand on Steve, grips it, holding on, holding tight. “I know how it is, you know. After the whole thing with my heart, after the kidnapping, it took me a while to feel normal when I wasn’t keeping myself busy, when I was caught off guard. You can ask Rhodey or Pepper.”

Steve doesn’t have an answer to that, because his heart races and pounds in his chest as if he was startled out of a sound sleep. For a moment, he thinks he might be having a heart attack and grasps at his chest.

“Hold on,” Tony says and his voice sounds far away. “Steve, come on, sit on the side of the bed.”

He’s not sure how Tony manages it, but his legs are swung over the side of the bed, and Tony presses on his back, between his shoulder blades until Steve relents and bends forward. 

“You’re hyperventilating, calm, deep breathes before you pass out,” Tony says. 

Clenching his knees, Steve steadies his breathing as the prick of tears burn his eyes. “I thought, I thought I had this under control,” he says again. But the shadows, the thoughts of Ultron harken back and his body goes rigid on him. 

Light soft strokes from Tony, up and down his shoulders, bring him back, yet his breathing is still harsh and troubled. “All the talk today about Ultron, probably set it off.”

“Some leader I am if I can’t even-.” He squeezes his eyes shut willing the images, the memories to go away. “If I can’t talk about our enemy without having a panic attack.”

Tony keeps up the soothing massage, and talks him through the worst of it, as he has over the last weeks when Steve wakes up terrified but ready to fight. “You’re human, that’s the difference between us and Ultron. You have your foibles and are vulnerable to your memories. Ultron isn’t.”

Steve nods and swallows, and then slowly, testing, sits back up. Shoulders slumping, he exhales. “Damn it.”

“Come on lay back on the bed, I’ll give you a massage.”

In seconds, Tony tugs off Steve’s shirt, and his pants, leaving only his undershorts on. He retrieves a bottle from his supply chest and a few other items Steve doesn’t see. Tony pours out some of the massage oil and works it into Steve’s muscles, starting with his board shoulders. 

“You have a significantly beautiful shoulder to waist ratio, Captain.”

“You’ve said that before I think,” Steve says and he’s weary with the memories. 

“Have I? I don’t remember,” Tony says as he kneads his hands into the healed flesh of Steve’s back. 

Steve only voices a little groan in response and lets him mind drift as Tony works downward, then flips Steve over with a little help and straddles him to caress and massage his pectorals. Tony seems content to focus on his task at hand, but the lull and softness has quieted Steve’s anxiety.

“Once we get your ship, we’ll have to find a way to connect back up with the nets, and grids.”

“Gonna be hard,” Tony says but he continues his rubbing, working each arm and shoulder, where the pain had been the brightest. “Ultron probably has drones and forces at the major Way Stations. Pretty sure he’s physically shutting everything down that way.”

“Physically as well as digitally?”

Tony nods. “Yes, from what I could glean, yes. He shut down the Rag-nets and grids, disabled most of the Way Stations, virtually. And I’m pretty certain called in Hammer and Doom for their drones. Buddied up with his own drones, it’ll be pretty bad.”

“How are they navigating?”

“I’m fairly certain Ultron has some beacon to the Stations he’s controlling access to that they are using. We can’t even detect it. I don’t have the right program written. It would take quite a while to find it, even if I had one written.” Tony says but keeps his hands moving.

“Or it was his plan all along and he just shut down the Way Stations and had the drones already in place,” Steve says. “If they are in place.”

“Oh they are,” Tony says and then stops. “I don’t think we should be talking about this – you need to clear your mind and just relax.”

Steve shifts and sits up. “What I need is to defeat the bastard.”

“Yes, that to,” Tony says. “We still have to find a way into the fucker’s brain. Only way we can do that-.”

“You said, he keeps his code in some kind of hyper dimensionality. And that we need a way to get there. Way Stations are the links to the Rag-nets and Grids by communications through hyper-dimensionality.” 

“That’s a little simplistic, but yeah that’s about right.” Tony shrugs. “We can’t go to the Way Stations. They’re probably either guarded by the drones, or in absolute chaos due to the cut off. Probably worse off than we are.”

“But what if we could go to one of the Stations and get there without assault. Even if Ultron has the tesseract from Loki, he would have to know where we would be. He’d have to find us first.” Steve smiles and mutters to himself, “He won’t find us, he’d never figure it out.”

“Not following, Captain.”

“Okay, so we established that Ultron cut off the nets and grids, he has to be controlling all functional Way Stations somehow, either through physical means or other means. He has an army through Hammer, Doom, and maybe even the Chitauri, who knows what happened to them once Loki went rogue.” Steve ticks them off on his fingers. “But the one thing, the one thing he’s not counting on.”

“What?”

“I said all functional Way Stations,” Steve says and quirks an eyebrow. “Functional, I bet he’s not guarding the non-functional ones.”

“The only non-functional one would be the Chr-.”

“Yeah, the Chromes. It was destroyed in the tesseract incident. But it’s probably still there in some capacity.”

“And probably in pretty rough shape,” Tony reminds him.

“Oh but you could probably rig it, I trust you, I know you can do it. All we need is the core, the communications core. How big is your boat, could we load it on board?” Steve says and he feels like he’s on fire, like he knows this will work. He’d bet on it.

“Slow down, there, Captain, I have to do some research first,” Tony says but Steve can see the wheels turning, figuring, calculating. “We might be able to do this, even if there’s just the core of the communications hub left. I could probably fix it with Bruce’s help.”

“Then it’s decided,” Steve says and throws himself back into the bed. He knows it is ridiculous, the feeling of victory, but in some small way to have an idea of what to do next, to somehow shut down that artificial intelligence and to be able to change the inequities of Human Space, it gives him hope again.

Tony perches over him, elbow bent and chin in hand. “I have a feeling we’ve made a bit of progress here tonight.”

Steve smiles. “A bit. We’ll clean up the details when we get to Earth.”

“And so we’re going to Parson’s Point, first, to get my ship.”

“And free the kids,” Steve says and slides his arms around Tony, pulling him close, chest to chest. “You got one of your little disc things? I’d like to make love to you, Tony. Would you let me do that?”

Tony responds with an audible sigh. “Yes, Captain my Captain. I would love you to do that.” He slips a disc into Steve hand and then lays back on the bed. “Do your best to debauch me, sir.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to debauch you, Tony,” Steve whispers and blows circles around the arc reactor embedded in his chest. “I said I want to make love to you.” He peers up at Tony and sees his eyes dark and deep with desire, with the tinge of something that had been missing these days. A renewed spirit of their definition, as a couple. 

It urges Steve on and he kisses with a delicate touch, a touch that only lingers and flirts along Tony’s skin, eliciting goose bumps as he torments and tastes. He pays attention to Tony’s nipples with a soft lick and then a kiss, and Tony groans and arches as if to ask Steve for more. He licks again but doesn’t give in to Tony’s want, to suck and nip. Steve caresses each nipple with his lips, and plays a dance with his tongue and only when Tony whines a little does he nip down and suck.

An exasperated sigh answers him and Steve thrusts up against Tony’s leg, letting his erection drag against his bare thigh. 

“You see, I want to make love to you, I want you to understand how it feels to be loved, Tony. Really truly and completely loved. I want you to know how much I trust you and love you and will never leave you,” Steve says. “I want you to know that I will forever be yours.” He continues kissing and pacing his tastes of Tony’s body along with his words.

With each kiss, with each word, Tony groans and holds onto Steve as he slides against Tony’s body. Steve yanks his undershorts off and buries his face in the soft tuff of hair. Tony’s dick is hot and heavy against his cheek, and glides against it luxuriating in the feel of the hard velvet flesh against his face. 

It takes him moments to come back to himself as he loses his bearings. Turning, he opens his mouth and licks, dabbling only slightly, teasing and enticing as he does. He licks and plays, suckles and provokes, baits and kisses. By the time Steve prepares him, Tony is putty in his hands, compliant and loose against him. 

After he presses on the disc and the lube glistens over his erection, he enters into Tony with a gentle stroke, careful to inch in with a slight rocking motion. As he does, Tony cries out and braces his hands against Steve’s arms to hold on. 

“There you go, baby,” Steve murmurs and pushes a little more. Tony pants and arches and begs for more.

“Captain, Steve, damned it, more,” Tony growls.

With a final thrusts he finds true home and his breath is robbed from his lungs and he looks up as if to the stars in final confirmation. 

“Move, Steve, move, please,” Tony whispers.

He sets up a slow and descending rhythm where they move in an ever increasing motion, building and falling, ebbing and cresting as he shoves forward and eases back. No one can take this away from him. Not an army, not a machine. This is what life is about, not nightmares or frailties or technology. This connection, this perfection and he shoves further wanting only to be merged with Tony, a part of Tony. 

The edge of his need sharpens and he picks up the pace until they are both caught in the tidal craving, until they are both begging and pleading with each other. Steve clasps his hand around Tony, between them and as soon as he does, Tony releases a primal scream and comes in a long lasting ribbon of desire. It only drives Steve in his frenzy and he follows it to its end, but it isn’t logical or sane. It is completely out of mind and state, and he plunges forward and his body goes rigid with his orgasm.

When he returns to himself, he’s kissing Tony, deeply and completely. He’s not even certain when it started, but he never wants it to end. As they lie there entangled, Steve promises, vows that he’ll win this war, he’ll do anything to change the world, except for one thing.

He’ll never sacrifice Tony.

Never.


	28. Chapter 28

Steve listens to the rain as it pelts the windows of their little haven - the one Tony found and secured for them on Earth all those weeks ago. It’s been raining the better part of the day and into the night. He’s not certain he can remember the last time he lay in a bed lulled by the sound of the storm outside. 

They’ve been Earth-side for a little over a week. It had been a rude awakening when they landed and realized how difficult it had been for the rest of their teams. Coulson’s team had made it back to the Rendezvous Point without issue. Steve suspects Coulson knew about the hoppers due to the fact the man knows just about every little nuance regarding space history. Danver’s crew along with Thor took longer, but thanks to Thor’s insight they were able to navigate back with what Tony calls a bunch of mumbo-jumbo magical stuff. As for Quill’s group, they’re still hoping he comes back, but if he doesn’t they’ll be able to pull off the mission to Parson’s Point without that team.

Once Ultron cut the nets and grids all the captains decided they had no other choice but to try and find their way back to Earth. It’s the safest place for renegades at this point. The biggest surprise happened to be the extra passenger on Danver’s ship, the Marvel. When they greeted the Marvel as it settled down on the landing pad, his entire crew froze as Thor escorted his brother down the ramp way after Jane and Carol.

The mad scramble occur then as Clint rushed them and tackled a cuffed Loki, tossing him to the ground and pounding on his face until Thor wrestled him away and Steve intervened with a hand to Clint’s shoulder, pushing him away. 

“What the fuck? What the fuck,” Clint had spit out. Pointing, his hands shook as he cursed. “Why the fuck did you bring him here? Why?”

“Clint,” Steve said and tried to reason with his navigator but the fact remained no one wanted Loki on Earth and everyone turned to Carol and Thor to explain.

It happened during the Chitauri battle when Loki turned against the Main Chamber. Because Ultron ended up occupied with the little rebellion led by Tony and Steve in the Main Chamber, Carol’s crew had been able to swoop in and cause a ruckus of their own. With Thor’s direction, they had been after the tesseract, what they ended up with had been Loki and a much delusional Selvig. 

From Danvers reports, the portal had been unstable and eventually shut down, leaving the Chitauri cut off and leaderless. Like a hive mentality though, they all went down when the connections broke off. 

“So that means Ultron has the cube,” Steve had said.

Silence answered him, but he didn’t need verbal confirmation. Their expressions told him more than he’d wanted to know. 

He sighs as he thinks about it. Tony shifts in his sleep and Steve only shushs him. The man has been going twenty-four seven practically the entire time they’ve been on Earth. Bruce, Jane, Skye, Simmons and Fitz have all holed up with Tony in the bowels of the underground encampment working on a way to jerry-rig the communications core from the remnants of the Chromes.

Tony announced last night that there was no way around it. They had to go to Parson’s Point and get his ship. Steve agreed and doesn’t even know why he hesitated and didn’t plan for it immediately. He fears it might be some residual anxiety over Stane, facing Stane. When Steve proclaimed they would be leaving for the Point, Bucky pulled him aside.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Bucky had said. His eyes glimmered in the dark light of the underground tunnels.

“Yeah, I do, and you know it.” 

“You’re only just recovered. We can do this,” Bucky said.

“You know that’s a lie, I heal at nearly four times the rate of a normal human being and can withstand wounds that would kill anyone else,” Steve said as he paged through the pad, looking at the data on the layout of the docks at the Point. 

“And your head, is it the same with your head?” Bucky asked. 

Steve had peered up at him, knowing his face gave too much away, he had immediately looked back down again.

“Don’t try to hide it, muffle it. It’ll come back to haunt you. Take it from me, I know,” Bucky said.

Steve hadn’t replied, just let that lesson hang like the fruit from the forbidden tree of knowledge. He could pluck it, take it down, learn something about himself, but sometimes ignorance is bliss. He can’t deny the anxiety lurks, that the shadows lurk in his dreams and he jerks awake with Tony comforting him before he’s even aware of it. But as the leader of the de facto rebels, he doesn’t have the luxury to worry about it.

“You’re thinking again,” Tony murmurs into his shoulder as he cuddles against him in the early dawn hours.

“Didn’t know you were awake. Didn’t think my thoughts were that loud,” Steve says and leans down to kiss Tony’s temple.

“I am and they are,” Tony says and flops to the side. He touches the top of the bridge of his nose. “Anyhow anyone can tell when you’re deep in thought, you get your little furrow right here.”

“Just listening to the rain,” Steve says and runs a hand up and down Tony’s arm. It feels good to just relax in their nest, even if his mind won’t let him forget about everything.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Tony says with a slight scoff to his tone. 

Steve chuckles. “You got me. We’re leaving for the Point today.”

“Yeah, we are,” Tony says and shifts. He notches his elbow and perches his chin in his hand. “We have everything planned out.”

“Not sure I like it,” Steve says. “But we have to separate. The kids will need to see me to trust that it is a rescue, I think.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be in the suit,” Tony says.

“So will Rhodes, you need to take him as backup,” Steve says. 

“And who will cover you when you’re getting the kids?” Tony says and shakes his head. “You need the cover more than I do. With all those kids, you’ll be vulnerable.”

“I’ll have Sam and Bucky, that’s enough for a dozen or so kids, Happy, and Aunt May.” Steve struggles up from their nest, determined not to let Tony question his decisions. Not because he doesn’t value Tony’s input, but it only leads him to paths of self-doubt. “We need to get ready. We’re launching in less than an hour.” He scoops up his undershorts and his pants.

“You’re avoiding, isn’t that my shtick?” Tony follows him and tugs on his pants and shirt.

Shrugging, Steve says, “Depends, ask Sam, he always said I was running away from my stress disorder or whatever he called it.”

“We’re going to have a conversation about this, Captain,” Tony says and scrubs fingers through his hair. It still sticks up at all different angles. 

He retrieves his shield and clamps it to his back as he says, “Yes, dear.” 

Tony strolls over to him, pats his cheeks, and says, “You are so cute when you’re annoyed.”

Steve swats him away. “Stop it, we need to get moving. They should be loading up the ships.”

“Coulson still firm on the plan?”

“We got Danvers and Coulson flying interception for us, getting a good lay of the land, and then we’ll swoop in with the Commando. It shouldn’t be difficult to jump from there.” Steve heads out of their haven, trying to ignore the itching feeling that he’ll never be back. He purposefully doesn’t look behind him. 

By the time they make their way back to the underground base and head toward transport to the landing areas for the ships, Tony grouses about leaving breakfast behind but Steve only rolls his eyes. “When is the last time you actually voluntarily ate, anything?”

“That is a fallacy. I eat all the time.”

“Coffee doesn’t count, Tony,” Steve says as he searches around the small offices off the long corridor. He catches one of the residents. “Did you see Peter Parker?”

“Parker?”

“Yeah, yay high, kind of has a mouth on him, likes science a little too much for his own good,” Tony says.

“Oh you mean the spider kid? He’s outback loading up the trucks,” the man says and disappears down the corridor.

“Spider kid?” Tony says and Steve has no answer.

“Don’t ask me, let’s go and check out the trucks. I want to make sure we all have enough supplies, including medical.” Steve leads the way to the trucks and finds Peter jump across the flatbeds and tossing supplies as they are thrown at him. “Peter.” 

The youth stops and smiles at Steve. “Thought you were going to miss the bus.”

“Not likely, come here, I have to talk with you,” Steve says and waves him to the ground. 

The garage is filled with people. Loads of supplies are being forklifted up to the beds of the trucks. There are three trucks being packed, one for each of the ships they are taking to Parson’s Point. Though he’s concerned with the logistics as people scurry around him to get all of the basic supplies and what ammunition they could spare, Steve needs to clear up a few points before they are on their way.

As he guides Peter to a quiet corner in the garage, Tony excuses himself and joins Foster and Simmons in some abstract conversation about hyper dimensionality and how to trap Ultron. He smiles ruefully as Peter tries to follow Tony.

“Not yet, big guy,” Steve says, grabbing both of Peter’s shoulders and marching him to a corner. “I need to talk with you.”

“You mean you’re going to talk _at_ me.” Peter says and crosses his arms over his chest. “Just tell me I’m wrong.”

Steve releases a breath and shakes his head. “You can’t come with us.”

“Why not, they’re my friends.”

“I can’t put you in harm’s way, Peter, you’re too young,” Steve replies and puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder again only to have the boy knock it off.

“I grew up in the Rims I was in harm’s way every day of my life,” Peter says. “I deserve to go and help my friends. Aunt May is waiting, _for me_. I told her I would come back.” 

“I know, but it’s just not possible. I’ll bring them back for you, Peter, I swear it.”

Peter throws up his hands. “This isn’t fair. I could help. I’m good with science, just ask Bruce or Tony-.”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re not coming,” Steve says. He can’t think of anything great to offer Peter as a consolation so he only meets his hard gaze. “Please.”

Peter huffs out a breath and scratches at his tangled knots. “Fine, whatever, this blows.”

“Thanks, we’re coming back,” Steve says and tries his best to be reassuring. Why was this so easy, before, when he was in the great Space War? 

Peter eyes him and, for a second, a flash of doubt flickers over his expression, and then he relents. “Yeah, come back, okay?” He turns worried.

“I will,” Steve says and hugs the boy until Peter struggles and pushes him away.

“Get off, you oaf.”

Steve smiles and salutes him as he jogs back to the staging area. By the time the ships are loaded and the crews assembled, Steve has lost himself in the routine of the mission. It feels good, right, and a comfortable place to be. He forgets the anxiety, forgets the fears that have plagued him over the last weeks. 

Danvers and Coulson join him at the ships when they arrive and he goes over the plan. It will be a simple one. With their two ships, Danvers and Coulson will ensure a distraction at the main port, while Natasha pilots the Commando to the Stark bay. Once there, Steve, Tony, Rhodes, Sam, Bucky, and Pepper will be the main front to round up the children and get Tony’s ship. Steve will go over the particulars with Tony once they are in flight. 

He’s fairly certain it will entail an argument or two.

“We can keep ‘em busying, Rogers, just get in and get the hell out of there. I’d like to burn Stane’s ass for what he did, though,” Carol says.

“Thanks, Carol, but we need to get the kids and the ship-.”

“Once we get Stark’s ship, you’re planning on a rendezvous or what?” Coulson asks. He’s looks put upon. During the fiasco that revealed the Main Chamber as a front for Ultron, Coulson’s engineer Skye learned that Ward has been an agent of the Chamber, and de facto, an agent of Ultron. Their confrontation was legendary from what Steve heard.

“We’ll meet up on Parson’s Moon, it’ll have to be quick and dirty hand off, because we need to get Stark’s ship and jump over to our next location.”

“Which you’re not going to tell us,” Carol says with a smirk. “Smart, but I don’t like it. We could help.”

“I might need your help later, so I need you to go to the Moon, and then jump back here.”

“You want a normal jump or a quick one? We’re going to be blowing holes all over the fabric of space-time if we’re not careful,” Coulson adds.

“I know, I know. Just do a safe one and we’ll call it even,” Steve says. Coulson gives him a half frown, but says nothing. Steve ignores it and moves on. “We all have the hopper points? We should get there in ten days?”

“Yep, excluding any unforeseen circumstances,” Carol agrees. “We’ll jump in and start pinging you once we get there on the appointed frequency.”

“That’s about it,” Steve says.

“Ready to do this thing?” Carol asks and surveys their faces.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve nods.

“Good to go,” Coulson says.

“Then let’s do this thing,” Carol says and slaps them both on the shoulders. She turns and runs to her awaiting ship. She has her full complement of crew members, but Thor is hanging with the Commando. His brother is locked up in the underground colony on Earth while they try and get in touch with Sif to bring him back to Asgard to be formally punished. One thing that still bothers Steve is what Loki told him when he had interrogated him about the tesseract.

“Oh, with the failure of the Chitauri, and they’re master will be sorely angry,” Loki had said.

“What does that mean, exactly, Loki?” Steve asked, his patience waning.

“It means my dear Captain, that Ultron is the least of your worries. When Thanos finds out his fondest wish was not granted, he’ll be more than a little angry.”

Loki wouldn’t explain, and Thor only had piecemeal information on who Thanos might be. Steve decided that since it was not an immediate threat, he needed to put his concerns on hold while he took care of the known threat.

Focused only on the mission, Steve commands that the ships get underway. He hangs onto the bulkhead in the cockpit as Natasha and Clint pilot the ship up through the thick layers of atmosphere and force the engines to drive the ship past the plane of the solar system into the middle ground where they can jump. It is a calculated risk, but it will shorten their trip by days.

Each of the ships transition and re-appear at the next point, only to re-calibrate and shift again. It is exhausting with Clint furnishing all the calculations, and Steve relaying them over the short comm systems to the other ships. The ships do the first three jumps easily enough and the final transition will bring them within days of Parson’s Point. Steve stays in the cockpit with his pilot and navigator for the trio of jumps. Food is delivered and they never leave except for snatches of sleep. After the last jump, they decide they need to relax before they put themselves in jeopardy at the Point. 

Steve ambles down the passage way, groggy, achy, and hungry. As he turns into the galley, he sees the glint of metal shift and move out of the corner of his eye and he snaps to attention, grabbing what he fears is Ultron and smacking him against the wall. In seconds, he slams an elbow into Bucky’s throat and pitches him across the small space in the kitchen where Bruce is stirring a pot on the stovetop. 

“What the-.” Bruce startles and grabs onto the counter behind him as he fights for control. 

Steve realizes his mistake, and opens his fists trying to relax as he comes back to himself. Bucky rubs his throat and holds up his hand, his flesh and blood hand. “Whoa there, fella, what the hell?”

Steve hisses through his teeth and rubs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, sorry, I – are you okay?”

Stumbling to his feet, Bucky nods. “You got a mean swing there. You gonna be okay to do this mission? It isn’t gonna be a walk in the park.”

“Sure, yeah,” Steve says and turns to glance at Bruce. “You okay?”

Bruce gives him a half smile and turns back to the pot. He doesn’t answer, and Steve considers that a win since the man could rip the ship apart with his bare hands if he wanted. After a minute, he says, “Maybe we should get Tony, you know, you could go and get some rest or something. You’ve been at it for days.”

“I don’t need,” Steve says and moves over to the counter, pours a mug of coffee, and then settles down on the bench. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” Bucky says and joins him at the table. Bruce eyes them for a moment as if judging what he should do next, but must finally decide to cook and wait it out because he turns back to his kitchen work. 

Bucky leans in, whispering as he does. “Listen, Steve, you’ve got to take it easy. This is it. I know how it is.”

Steve doesn’t want to discount what Bucky’s been through, he’s held Bucky enough to understand what it means to be tormented by the past. Instead, Steve presses his lips together and stifles any comment.

“Maybe you should hang with Tony for a bit, get some sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Steve says and sips the coffee. “Anyhow I have to figure out how close we can swoop into Parson’s without completely ripping holes in space.”

“Micro-tears shouldn’t do much damage,” Bruce says. “Tony and I did the calculations. It looks pretty sound if we only do it once or twice.”

“That’s a theory, if we start hopping in from hyper-dimensionality too close to planets as a rule we’re going to blow apart the whole universe,” Steve says.

“One of the other reasons to get the damned cube,” Bucky chimes in.

“That’s not part of the plan, Bucky,” Steve says and decides he might want to hit the sack for a while. His bones ache. “Let’s stay focused, okay?” He gets up and moves to leave before Bucky catches his arm to stay him.

“Where’re you going?”

“To sleep.”

“You need to eat,” Bucky says.

“I need to sleep more,” Steve says and leaves. 

He finds himself in the guest quarters alone, Tony must be tinkering in the Engine room again. While he regrets not seeing Tony, he falls into bed without even disrobing. The sleep that follows him is troubled and painful. He jolts awake several times, only to stare out into the dark cabin while his heart drums a panicked beat in his chest. At one point when he wakes, the hatch is slightly open and he can hear voices in the corridor.

“I don’t care what you do, just let him rest.” The first voice sounds like Bucky.

“I’m not an idiot, Barnes, I know what he’s been through.” Tony replies. 

They’re fighting. Over him. Steve doesn’t like it, but the inertia of exhaustion holds him in bed.

“Do you, do you really?” Bucky says, his voice edging closer to anger.

“Yes, I do. You might think you have a corner on the market when it comes to torture, but some of us have our own little version of hell. Thank you, and let go of my fucking arm, Barnes.”

“I’ll let go when you tell me you’re not going to fuck his brains out and leave him addled minded. He’s fucking scared enough, terrified, and he’s losing confidence. We need him to pull through this, now.”

“That’s nice, Barnes, real nice. People still call you an assassin, huh? Labels, I thought we were beyond labels.”

“I call it like I see it.”

“Fuck you, Barnes, fuck you.”

When Steve hears the gears of Bucky’s arms rotate to life, he leaps out of bed and yanks the door open. “Stop it, both of you.”

Tony and Bucky startle, and look abashed like little school boys found squabbling on the school yard by their teacher. Before either of them can explain, Steve shakes his head and says, “I’m going to get something to eat.”

He leaves them in the corridor, speechless. When he gets to the kitchen he rummages through the fridge and pulls out the leftover stew. As he sits in the galley mechanically lifting the spoon to his mouth, not tasting the stew, he tries to ignore the persistent agreement with Bucky’s words in his head. The thoughts float through his head at dizzying speeds. He can’t do this, he’s not Captain America; he’s just a damned hauler. He trucks goods from one end of Human Space to the other. Who the hell does he think he is? He has no right to be trying to save humanity.

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he steadies his breathing until he feels a hand on his shoulder. He knows who it is instantly.

“Come on, let’s get you rested,” Tony says.

Peering up at him, Steve says, “I’m not sure I can do this. I could, I think before – but this, this is too much.”

Tony stops, thinks, and then slides into the chair opposite Steve in the galley kitchen. 

“I’m not going to say it’s going to be easy, and I am not going to serve you platitudes. Hell, I lost myself in the Courtesan Guild before I finally decided I had to do something about Stane and the likes of him,” Tony says. “You have every right in everyone’s book to step away from this. Give me the word, and I’ll help you get away, somewhere safe. We’ll forget the whole thing. No one will blame you, Steve.”

“Why is that?” Steve says.

“Um? Why is what?”

“Most of the time you call me Captain. I can count on one hand the times you’ve called me Steve.”

Tony clasps his hand on the table, holds it, like a warm anchor in the cold of space. “Captain, you are my captain. As silly as it sounds you are my compass point. Anything I do, I don’t do half as good as I would with you. And Steve.” His voice drops. “Steve is more intimate to me. Steve is.” He stops and quiets. “Steve is my way of saying I love you.”

Steve releases a pent up breath and nods rapidly, not looking at Tony, but staring at their entwined hands. “We can do this, right?”

“Only if you want to.”

It takes a full minute for Steve to answer, and it is only after Tony whispers to him again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, yes, let’s do this,” Steve says and he’s back on surer footing. 

He finds some courage in his declaration and over the next days, secures a firmer, harder stance. This is what he was created for all those years ago. When he’d been just a weakling and Doctor Erskine saw a true soul within the thin bones and the wan pallor. 

The final approach to Parson’s Point will be dangerous. He puts Maria and Sharon in the gunner’s pods. He knew he would have a large complement on this mission, due to the fact he’ll need Bucky and Sam by his side. Rhodes, Pepper, and Tony suit up and Tony bitches about the fact Steve refuses a suit. At the last minute Tony surrenders but forces Steve to wear little bracelets that will locate him – just in case.

“I don’t need a leash.”

“It isn’t a leash, think of it more as a beacon,” Tony says. “A homing beacon.”

He stuffs them on under his uniform and attaches the shield to his back. Sam is in his flight suit and Bucky is dressed with guns attached to his hip, his back and in his hands. Bruce stands in the back of the cargo bay, at the ready. Thor crosses his arms and glowers. Steve has asked him to stay behind, ready to jump ship when they need him, if they need him.

Steve gives him and Bruce a sidelong glance.

“If you need me, just give me a holler. You know I’ll be there,” Bruce says, his hands flexing.

“I know,” Steve says as he taps the ear bud in place. “Just make sure to keep my ship in the air.”

Bruce nods as Steve slips on his helmet. He looks over his strike crew. “We have a short window. As Coulson and Danvers engages the patrols ships, the Commando will fire on the main Stark port, as they get the guns pointed at the vulnerable parts of the ship, the cargo bay opens…”

“And we all jump out,” Tony says. “I’m still not sure how you and the masked wonder over there are going to survive the fall.”

Steve shares a look with Bucky as he snaps his mask into place. “Well, you don’t know a lot about the Space War if you don’t know what we’re capable of.”

“I get you and the serum, but what about Winter here?” Tony says.

“Getting tortured isn’t the half of what I got during my capture, Stark, leave it,” Bucky growls and Tony backs down with only a passing glance at Steve.

“Are we ready?” Steve asks and he gets the requisite nods from his team.

At that moment, Natasha comes over the Commando’s communications link. “Coming up on the drop zone.”

Bruce goes to the side to hit the cargo hold ramp way release button. Steve buckles on his helmet and signals Bruce to open the ship. 

“Coulson and Danvers have engaged the patrols,” Natasha announces. “You have less than ten seconds to jump safely. Good luck. See you at the rendezvous point.”

Tony closes his faceplate down but not before saying. “Good luck, Steve.”

“You, too.” Steve whispers but his words are caught in the winds from the open maw of the ship. As they step forward, Rhodes and Pepper wait for Tony. They are suited up and ready to fly. Sam clicks his wings into place and all four of them leap from the boat first. As the Commando swoops down and gets within twenty meters of the ground, Steve with shield in hand and Bucky jump as well.

The plunge steals the air from his lungs and he readies himself for impact. It will be rougher on Bucky without the shield. Steve tumbles to the ground using the shield to rotate off of and then stand. The Patrol ships are circling and immediately the Commando turns from a landing ship to a gunner as the pods come to life and clear their path.

Steve scans the skyline and sees Tony with Rhodes and Pepper on their way to the main bay of Stark Corp. Sam lands in front of Steve and Bucky and they start toward the buildings. According to their intel – mainly Peter and Pepper – the children had last been seen in the lower levels of the main docking building for Stark Corp.

The resistance they meet in minimal at best. 

“Tony, you having any trouble?” Steve says as he knocks out a couple of drones with a spin of his shield. “Tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Not much, the Patrol ships are out, but that’s protocol when a ship come in and doesn’t have a manifest. Not sure what the hell is going on – very light resistance.” 

“Maybe Stane isn’t expecting us,” Pepper offers.

“Maybe,” Steve mutters as he goes down on one knee to allow Bucky to pluck off a few drones from the upper balconies of the building. In his gut, he knows something feels wrong, something is off. But he has no choice but to continue forward. “Get the ship and we’re going to get the kids. We’ll meet you at the bay.”

“You got it, Cap,” Tony snaps and then he hears a series of explosive volleys. 

Steve turns his attention back to the task at hand and links back to Sam. “You got a bird’s eye, give me an idea of what’s going on?”

“Basic security, no real threat. We should be good to go, now, Cap.”

Steve nods and waves them toward the admin building doors. Without opposition the doors spring open and they enter the building. No one is there to greet them, and Steve scans the area, trying to identify why this reeks of a set up.

Over the comm link he hears a curse and a few gasps. 

“Tony?”

“Cap, we just found Stane, or what’s left of him.”

“What?” Steve watches as Sam and Bucky scout forward to find nothing. “He’s dead?”

“Very much so, his head is on a pike.”

“Damn it,” Steve hisses. He admits he dislikes the man very much, but he doesn’t like the idea of someone doling out justice without a trial. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s-.” Tony mumbles and then adds, “Other parts of him around the bay, too.”

Over the link he hears distinct gagging. “Do you need assistance?”

“We’re good,” Rhodes says. “No sign of hostiles. We’re headed toward the ship. What’s your ETA with the kids?”

“Hoping for little less than fifteen.”

“See you then,” Rhodes returns.

“Keep an eye, someone’s here and they might not friendlies.” Steve gestures for his team to head toward the lower levels of the building. It looks like it is a simple administrative building, and, if he’s right, the lower levels would be used for holding cells – for immigrants or illegals to be processed through the system. A perfect place to hold the children.

Sam heads to the east most stairwell as Bucky finds the opposite stairwell. They’ll keep away from the elevators. Steve opts to follow Sam down the stairs. They meet no resistance and it sends alerts on high alarm in his head. Whoever killed Stane might still be about, might consider the children a nuisance and kill them with impunity. It only pushes him further and faster than before.

With Sam behind him, Steve holds his shield in the front and they search the immigration holding area, and, when they find nothing – no children, no workers – they continued toward the holding cells.

“Steve,” Bucky says over the link. “I found something.”

“Where?”

“Southwest corner of the building, an access to a sub-level. It looks like someone might have blocked it off from the other side.”

“Can you get it open?”

“With a little help?” Bucky says.

“We’re on our way.” Steve waves for Sam to follow and they go through the maze of cubicles and waiting areas toward the southwest corner of the building to find Bucky hunched over the door lock, trying to jimmy it opened. 

“Get out of the way,” Sam says and pulls out a small charge.

“I had one of those, I didn’t want to use it,” Bucky says but before he can protest Sam is saying for everyone to step back and the small charge detonates. 

The blast isn’t loud but still it echoes in the empty facility. Steve sees no one reacting to it, and turns back to the door as Sam swings it open. “Come on.”

They enter the darkened stairwell, shoving aside furniture that had been jammed up against the door. Continuing to the stairs, Steve heads down first with Sam and Bucky behind him. Bucky takes up the rear, guarding their six as they hunt for the children in the lower level. There’s little lighting but he searches through the storage level, only to catch a glimpse of movement toward the opposite end.

Silently, he signals for his team to follow as he slips by the crates and shelving. A tinny bell rings as they close in on the opposite corner and then the shelving wavers and collapses down onto them. Sam jumps out of the way right in time and Steve only lifts his shield to fend off the broken pieces of equipment as they tumble down. 

A muffled scream and then a barrage of thrown articles including equipment pieces and some chairs fly by their way. Steve knocks them aside and stands up. He spots the flash of blonde hair and then a small boy rush into the cubby hole near the corner. Dashing across the space, he grabs an arm and drags the boy from the hole.

Even as Ian whacks at his arm, Steve says, “Ian, Ian! It’s me, Steve.”

The boy throws a fit until he hears the name and stops mid-kick to Steve’s shin. “Steve? Steve, it’s Steve!” He’s yelling at the top of his lungs before Steve can quiet him.

From the cubby hole another face appears as both Sam and Bucky converge on Steve. The hole produces Harley and Ana-Rose and then with much struggle, Happy. 

“Happy,” Steve says and puts Ian down to offer his hand. “Good to see you, good to see you.”

“Are you alone, were you able to neutralize their forces. Where’s the boss?” Happy says while peering around Steve. 

Steve turns around and looks behind him and then faces Happy again. “What’s going on Happy? No one is at the docking bay and Tony found Stane dead.”

Happy scratches at his large forehead and shuffles on his feet. He’s filthy like he hasn’t bathed in days and looks thinner, worse for wear.

“What’s happened here? Where’s Aunt May?” Steve says just as the woman herself crawls out of the cramped hole.

“I’m right here, and it’s about time you decided to show up. Where’s my Peter?” May brushes back strands of hair as a crowd of the children swarm around her. Ana-Rose cuddles up close with her thumb in her mouth and her large eyes glossy and red.

“What’s gone on?” Steve says but then adds, “Peter’s fine. He’s back at our safe house. But what’s happened here?”

“Seems Stane isn’t the only one with muscle to flex, tell ‘em Hogan,” May says and then turns to gather up the children. Steve does a head count, and finds Gwen with some of the younger children appearing out of the hole.

“It isn’t good, Captain, Stane’s men were overpowered by these drones. I’ve never seen these type of drones before, and they weren’t like normal robot drones. They were cruel, almost evil, you know?” Happy says. “Different, they looked different too. Sleeker, more humanoid, and silver. Bigger, too. At least two meters tall. Not like your regular drones.” 

Steve taps his earbud to call up Tony. “Tony, do you copy?”

“Coming through without a problem. What’s up, Cap?”

“Have you secured the ship?”

“Yes, no resistance at all. It’s kind of eerie. Contacted the Commando, they are encountering minor resistance from the patrols, but not much.”

“Stay sharp, I think we have an ambush in the making,” Steve says and then turns to his team. “We need transport. See if you can find anything in the garages in the upper levels.” They’d planned to use on of the busses from the port. 

Sam nods and jogs to the stairwell to find the needed transport; there should be a variety of trucks and buses available at the docking bay. Bucky takes up point to watch over the empty basement as Steve gathers the children. 

Gwen quizzes him about Peter but he’s able to put her off as he continues to survey the area. It’s too perfect, too easy, and his senses are on high alert. Sam comes of the link.

“Got a bus, but Cap, there’s something wrong.”

“What is it, Sam?”

“It was like set up for us, just sitting here ready for us to-.” The link goes dead with a squawk in Steve’s ear and he hunches and hisses.

“Sam? Sam? Do you read? Do you read?” Steve says and motions for Bucky to check the stairwell. 

He hesitates only a second before he starts climbing the closest steps toward the garage.

“Sam, do you copy?” Steve switches over to Tony’s frequency. “Tony, I can’t get a hold of Sam.”

“I read you we got an armload of drones coming in and they aren’t the run of the mill ones, either. Cap, I think they might be Ultron’s army.”

“How is that possible? We didn’t see Ultron’s army, just Hammer drones and Doom-bots,” Steve says and ushers the children to the stairwell. As soon as he’s sure they are safe, he’ll need them to make a run for it. 

He hits the switch and calls out, “Sam, come in, Sam?”

“Here, give me a minute.”

Steve bites back his words and waits, but then he taps twice on the link to get to Bucky’s frequency. “Bucky?”

“A force of a dozen humanoid drones are standing outside the garage, waiting for us to exit. Sam is trying to get the bus closer to the stairwell, but there’s no way to do it without alerting them,” Bucky whispers into the link.

“A diversion?” Steve says.

“Going up to the upper level and will take up a sniper’s position,” Bucky says and clicks off.

Steve hits the link again. “Tony, we’re surrounded. We think it’s Ultron’s forces.”

“It is,” Tony says with a sharpness to his voice. “We have some strange readings, and we pinned it down. They’ve got the tesseract, they’re using it to move between worlds.”

“Damn it,” Steve says. “How the hell did he know?” 

“Stane, I’m sure. I’m sending Rhodey and Pepper to you.”

“No, Tony, you need protection there,” Steve replies.

“I’m in a huge ship, I’ll be fine.”

“A ship with minimal weapons,” Steve says. “Do not send both of them.”

“Too late they’re already on their way,” Tony says. “Don’t worry, I still have the suit. War Machine and Rescue on the way.” He shuts off the link before Steve can protest further.

Cursing, he goes back to his team. “We have incoming in the air. War Machine and Rescue on the way. Should provide us with ample cover.”

“Get to the bus and I can do what I can in the air as well,” Sam says.

“As soon as the Soldier spots the aerial support we’ll be there,” Steve waves for Happy and Aunt May to order the children to climb the stairwell. Aunt May leads the way with a pistol Steve passed to her and Happy is in the rear with Steve’s other pistol, leaving him only the shield which is weapon enough for him. 

Ana-Rose clings to Gwen and sniffles but keeps her head about her as Ian and Harley lead the pack of children up the staircase. Steve halts them at the door and eyes the bus in the center of the garage. He spies the top of the Falcon’s jetpack from the rear of the bus. 

He holds his fist up, keeping everyone at bay until he sees the skies light up from the multiple strikes, slamming into the line of drones surrounding the garage but not visible to Steve. He hears the sniper rifle from above and then waves the children forward. Crouching, they scamper toward the bus with Sam urging them forward and directing them to the back.

As Rhodes and Pepper engage Ultron’s battle drones, Steve positions his shield to cover the children as they crawl into the rear of the vehicle. 

“Happy, get in and get it started. Sam, take to the air, cover us as we move out.”

Happy nods, and crawls into the bed of the vehicle to climb into the cab. Aunt May is the last one in the van and Steve locks it. Sam breaks out the flight suit, flicks his wrists, and arms himself to pepper the line of drones with fire. The drones take note of the activity in the open garage and target them. Whipping his shield in an arcing throw, Steve decks two of them as he races around the bus and catches the shield on the rebound. 

The engine roars to life and the bus wheels out of the garage; the troop of Ultron drones has grown and a legion of patrol ships arrive to hover over the docking garage and administration building. Happy bulldozes his way through the line of drones even as some of them leap onto the vehicle to bang on its side. Steve hangs onto the side of the bus. One of the drones pelts the roof with explosives. Steve whirls his shield at it, knocking it aside only to have another one climb up and take its place. Sam targets the closest drones as they leap toward the moving vehicle. He veers inward and litters the ground with a round of fire.

War Machine and Rescue swoop down to clear a path, burning the drones with repulsor beams as Bucky picks off the soldier drones one by one. It doesn’t seem to matter though because as fast as they can shoot them down more stream in from the side bays. 

“Tony, how fast can you get the ship here?” Steve yells over the fray. 

The bus barrels across the shipping yard, a half dozen drones stuck to it like a mass of insects. The body of the bus rocks against the onslaught.

“I’m about ready to start the lift off protocol, but the boat’s been lying fallow for a long time. It’s got updates and upgrades to run through.”

“Cancel all upgrades, just get it here,” Steve calls over the comm and gestures for Bucky to swing down from his nest. In one jump, Bucky leaps from the second story, drops, and rolls over to bus. With cool efficiency, he bashes one Ultron robot after another as he smashes his way to the roof of the bus.

“Steve, cancelling all updates,” Tony says. “I’ll be right ther-, damn it to hell, shit.”

“What?”

“Rogers, Captain,” Carol comes through the link.

“What?” He dives from the bus, and heads toward a line of crates to the side of the building as Sam weaves through the air above him providing him cover. Steve bends low and spears the shield into the neck of a waiting drone and then flattens his body against the crate. “Update, Carol?”

“The tesseract – there’s a portal – if that’s what you call it – right over the bay where Stark has his ship,” Danvers reports. “We can’t get close to protect it. Do you copy, Rogers? We cannot protect Stark.”

“Steve,” Tony cries out. “I’m sending the suit to you.”

“What? Tony, no! Belay that order,” Steve taps the comm link and peers out to the yard. Flames burst from crates as they detonate near the bus and Steve has to hunch low to the ground under his shield to protect himself. “Tony?”

“The suit’s incoming – Steve – I don’t have much time,” Tony says. Steve can hear him panting over the comm. “Stupid, damned ship. It isn’t responding. Wait, there, I got it.”

“Tony, Tony?” Steve says and races to catch the bus but a dozen drones block his escape route as the bus lurches through the gate and heads toward the main docking bay where Tony’s ship is. “The bus is on its way to you.”

He can’t say much more because the drones circle him and, raising their hands set off a round of fire. He manages to tuck and roll using the shield as both a barrier and a launching pad as he hops to his feet and slams it into the closest mechanical body. Sparks fly and he shoves the shield’s edge into another drone. 

He only gets a glimpse of the bus as it streaks toward the main bay and sees that Bucky’s fighting a horde of drones and the patrol ships are targeting the bus as well. Rhodes, Pepper, and Sam soar overhead, trying to take down the air support.

Another round of fire and Steve’s dropping to the ground, trying to avoid the scorching flames, feeling the heat of it brush past him. “I need support, pinned down near the east part of the yard. Can’t get to the bus.” He hides between two large freighters. 

“Steve?”

“Tony? Is the ship-?”

“The ship is ready, Steve, but I don’t – I have to do something to make sure they can’t board. I’m sorry, the suit is homed to you. Use it.”

“What? Tony, what? What are you doing?” 

Even as he’s screaming over the comm, giving away his position, the armor abruptly descends from the sky. The drones assaulting him turn their attention to it, but it’s too late as the suit begins to wrap around him as he cries out for Tony. He has to drop the shield into order for the armor to close around him, and pull his helmet off as the helmet molds around his head. “Tony, god damn it, Tony, tell me what the hell is going on?”

“Sir, I have been instructed to get you to safety,” JARVIS’s voice answers Steve and suddenly before his eyes in the dark cave of the helmet a display appears, stunning and beautiful, confusing and unsettling all at once. 

“JARVIS? What? Where’s Tony, is he okay?”

The display before him flashes to an image of a large luxury liner, with a beam from the portal ripped through the side.

“JARVIS, tell me what’s happening?” Steve says as he picks up the shield. 

“Sir, if you will allow me to, I will first get us out of danger and then I will transport you to the ship.”

“Oh, okay?” He has to agree, what else should he do? The suit rockets into the air and he lets out a yelp of surprise. 

“Sir, I am going to move your limbs, please relax.”

“You can do that?” Steve says as the display before him changes to allow him to view the bus maneuvering toward the main docking bay with the liner ship. 

Bucky clings to the top of it, whacking at one drone as others attack him. Sam hovers close lending support and suppressive fire.

“JARVIS, target the drones on that bus,” Steve says, even though he has no idea what will happen.

His arm lift of its own accord (or really JARVIS’s) and the repulsor fire several precise shots, clearing the bus of the drones as Rhodes and Pepper continue their battle with the patrol ships and the new police buggers that have appeared on the scene. The aerial battle with the Marvel, the Agent and the Commando rages in a brilliant display of lights and sprays of multi-colored blasts. A din of chatter over the comm link from the ships continues in the background.

“JARVIS, now tell me what’s happening to Tony?” Steve says as the bus turns to the main bay and the suit flies over it. “Tony, do you read? Tony?”

“I am sorry, Captain, but Sir Stark cannot answer.”

“What? Why?” The anxiety throws the pitch of his voice, accelerates his heart rate. “What the hell is going on?” He feels trapped, contained, imprisoned, almost as if he’s back in the tube prison. He curses.

Another explosion in the air above him scatters debris everywhere and JARVIS directs the suit to miss the fiery shrapnel. As he sees the bay for the first time, he realizes the drones have retreated from it, leaving it at peace. There is no sign of the tesseract portal. The rest of drones all fall back, and the calls from the Commando, the Marvel, and the Agent quiet.

JARVIS directs the suit to the hangar and Steve stumbles to a stop near the huge ship. “JARVIS, tell me what’s happening. Where’s Tony?”

“I am sorry to tell you that Sir has left, he agreed to go with Ultron and left by the tesseract portal before it closed down, Captain.”

Steve grabs at the faceplate, but can’t lift it. “Damn it, open the helmet, get this thing off of me.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

The suit folds off of him and compiles itself into a neat compact tube. The bus, Rhodes, Pepper, Sam, everyone converges on the ship. The silence from the ship hurts, more than the whips and chains that punished him and held him for all of those weeks. It pains like agony, scorching and bright, because he knows, knows what Tony has done.

“God damn it,” Steve says and rushes into the ship. It’s vacant, dead, empty and hollow. He calls out. “Tony? Tony?”

“Captain, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS tries to interrupt him, but there’s no one to answer him, Tony isn’t there. 

Sam stumbles in, his wings half damaged, Bucky staggers behind him, his chest riddled with shrapnel and his mechanical arm smelling of charred metal. Happy and Aunt May usher in the children as Rhodes and Pepper follow, their suits disassembling. 

“Where, Tony, where?”

“Captain Rogers, Sir Stark is not on board. He ordered me not to tell you until you were safe. I will be able to tell you as soon as the ship lifts off.”

“Not without him, JARVIS, not without him,” Steve screams and feels his throat closing up, the tension pounding in his eyes, roaring in his ears. “Where the hell is he?”

Bucky walks over to him, dragging a crippled leg. “Steve, listen, Steve. Get the ship off the ground. We don’t know how long Tony bought us.”

“Bought us? No, he didn’t do this, Tony isn’t one to lie down on the wire. He wouldn’t. JARVIS? JARVIS?” Steve screams into the hull of the liner.

“Captain Rogers, I have to inform you, and for your own safety and the safety of others that Sir Stark is no longer on the planet.”

“You keep saying that, damn it. I don’t want to hear that.”

Steve scrubs a hand through his hair, he cannot focus on anyone, anything. He can’t feel anything, his nerves vibrate and hitch. Rhodes comes up to him and grabs his shoulders. “Get the damned ship off the ground. The patrol ships have cleared. We don’t know how long he bought us.”

When Steve doesn’t answer, Rhodes commands, “JARVIS close her up. We’re initiating lift off.”

Steve wavers on his feet, but Bucky, wounded and broken, puts a shoulder under his arm and guides him with the help of Sam and Pepper to sit. He bends over as he sits, head between his knees, holding back the need to scream and kick things, and break the world. He wants to break, shatter, fragment everything and everyone around him, and he could do it, too. He knows he’s capable, but he fights back the urge, swallows back the anger and the terror until he straightens up and inhales deeply.

Letting out the breath, he says, “JARVIS, where did Tony go?”

The ship rumbles to launch. He doesn’t stop it as JARVIS answers, “Sir Stark went with Ultron.”

“Ultron?” Steve rasps. “How?”

“The tesseract portal opened up in the ship, doing it no damage, Captain, but Ultron came through the stream.”

“And?”

“Sir Stark agreed to go with him in exchange for your lives.”

The roar of silence like a paradox overtakes him and he pounds a fist on the sleek hull of the liner, screams a curse, and the commands JARVIS to navigate the ship to the appointed rendezvous point.

He stalks to the cockpit to find Rhodes sans suit at the controls. 

“Get us there, I don’t care how you do it, just do it.”

He can barely hear his own words over the screeching in his head, over the boiling rage in his blood.

Bucky is behind him, standing in the corridor to the luxury liner’s main cabin. He catches Steve’s torn uniform and says, “What are you planning on doing?”

“I’m bringing him back.” He looks Bucky in the eye. “I lost you once and I killed or captured every Hydra agent. Now, I’m going to do the same to Ultron. I’m going to get him back and I’m going to end this, I’m going to end Ultron.”


	29. Chapter 29

"What are you planning to do?" Natasha hunches over him as he pulls out clips from the small ammunitions closet in the Commando. They landed not five minutes ago on Parson’s moon. He marched right over to his ship and tore it open to get to the weapons. The closet is notched between the Engine room and the cargo hold. There’s not much room, but Bucky has always been efficient when it comes to weapons.

He peers up at her from his kneeling position, doesn't say a word, and continues to gather up his supplies, counting and analyzing what he needs.

"Steve, you need to tell me what you plan to do, because you can't do it alone."

He stands up, like a challenge, like an immovable mountain. "Can't I?"

She’s never intimidated by him and she’s not starting now. Before he can leave, she catches his arm and holds him in place. "No, you can't. You can't walk into Ultron's sanctuary and expect to walk away alive, and with Stark."

As he tries to start away, she tugs on him and then the crowd of his crew, his teams and the other teams appear in the hold of the Commando. Her voice is hoarse, deep, and commanding. “Steve, you need us.”

"I need to do this, but you need to get the ship and move to the next destination," he says and tries to calculate what is going on with the crowd gathered around him, what their intent is. "I need to do this alone. You take Tony's ship and get to the next destination."

"No, you need help. I can pilot the Commando for you."

Bucky is in the crowd and his face still has dried blood on it, and the mechanical arm moves with a distinct whine to the gears. "You are not going in there alone. Are you insane?"

"I need-."

"You need a plan," Bruce says.

"You are the man with a plan," Coulson says and they all stand there like little ducklings waiting for their mother to decide whether or not to cross the raging rapids of a river.

He looks at them, they surround him, perched and ready for action and his command. When did this happen? How did he become their leader? And then his mind cycles back to Tony and everything Tony gave him back of his life. He fists his hands and inhales.

"What do you want me to do? Forget him?"

"No, we're not asking that, Rogers," Natasha says and her hand his on his shoulder, grasping it. He knows when she calls him Rogers it is fond, it is friendship.

He nods, not able to speak for a moment.

"You can't do this alone," Danvers says.

"We need to know the best way in and out," Rhodes adds. "I can provide some of that."

"We'll need a good cover, the city is completely overrun by Ultron's machines," Maria says and he watches as they all come together, as his team becomes a strike force.

As they consider the possibilities, he interjects, "We have to go back to Earth."

Thor turns to him and shakes his head. "Nay, do not say it, my brother in arms. Do not invoke-."

"We don't have a choice."

"What?" Bucky looks between them and then curses. "You want to get Loki."

“He could provide the perfect cover,” Steve says, “With that magic, he would be able to hide us in plain sight.” He pauses and knows his mistake. Cursing, he says, “But it’ll take too long. Do the calculations for me Clint. I need to know how long it will take-.”

“Too long,” Clint says and crosses his arms. “Trusting Loki isn’t the way to get Stark back.”

He glowers at Clint but it gets him nowhere. Maria pushes forward, all three teams crowd around him in the hold. 

“Ultron is already there, already at the Inner Belts with Stark. We don’t have much of a choice here. The best way is to go there now,” Maria says.

“Unfortunately, I have not heard good news on our search for Heimdall. He is lost to the Nine Realms,” Thor says and his demeanor slumps. “It is my brother who has brought this horror upon you and your worlds, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Jane grabs his forearm and squeezes it as Steve shakes his head. “No need to apologize, Thor. The tesseract is either a blessing or a curse. Right now, we have to treat it as a curse. We need a way into Ultron’s stronghold. Humans just can’t walk in the door. The place is overrun with drones and bots. Loki would have been a great solution, but with time factored in, we have to move out and get to the Belts, now.”

“Ultron trusts very few humans. Hammer, probably, Doom most certainly,” Maria states. She’s working it out, giving him all the information she knows. “Neither one of them will be sympathetic to our cause.”

“Both of them are traitors to the human race,” Natasha says. Her expression boils, the rage she carries both terrifies him and invigorates him. As an ally, Natasha is a force to be reckoned.

“They aren’t going to be sympathetic,” Bucky says and he hangs on Bruce. His injuries need attention, he won’t be any good to them if he doesn’t have time to heal.

“Then we need another way in or we’re going to have to go in the front door. And for this operation, I think that would be suicide,” Steve says. He studies each of their faces as he tests them with an impossible task.

“Fury,” Maria says and smiles. Her eyes light up with excitement. “Your way in, he’ll know a way.”

“Nick Fury? I thought he dropped off the map after he quit SHIELD?” Steve says as he stows all of the gear he might need once he finally gets to the Inner Belts and the stronghold.

“The humans were all hold up in the outskirts of the city,” Maria says. “He was there with me, infiltrating, trying to get an idea of what the Main Chamber actually was. You aren’t the only one who smelled something funky in Denmark, Captain. Fury led that exodus out, he saved what people he could. He’ll know the best way to get into the stronghold.”

“So, how do we find him?”

“Wait, wait, wait, we still need to get there,” Bucky says. “You expect to get to the Inner Belts without problems? How? Ultron will obliterate us before we even get close. His ships will take us out. He won’t risk it this time. Our little tricks with the registration aren’t going to work this time around, you know. He’ll be ready for it.”

“We’ll get there,” Steve says and marches through the mass of his team, his rebels. He goes down the ramp way of the Commando and crosses the deck of the landing bay on the mining moon of Parson’s. He enters Tony’s ship. It’s a luxury liner in every word, he can imagine how wonderful it might be to make a deep space trek in the ship. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

“If you were able to, could you mimic Ultron’s army?”

“I am not sure what you mean, Captain.”

“I mean, can you make it look like we’re Ultron’s army instead of an invading force.”

There is a pause before JARVIS answers. “I have some data that may allow such a ruse. But I calculate that I will only be able to put up the subterfuge for approximately 5.3 minutes after which Ultron’s forces will gather that I am not who I say I am.”

“We’ll need to jump close to the planet, then.”

Natasha jumps in. “Rogers, with all of these close jumps Ultron is going to be able to map our patterns and follow us if we don’t ruin hyper dimensionality while we’re at it.”

“We don’t have a choice. We’re doing this one way or another.” Steve says. “Anyway, Ultron won’t be an issue after I’m done.”

Everyone stares at him, waiting.

“I’m going to shut that thing down, even if I have to do it with my bare hands and rip it limb from limb.”

With that pronouncement, everyone takes on a new demeanor, ready, on target with their concentration never wavering. They are lucky that the Moon’s security is seriously lacking (and thus the reason he chose it in the first place). Over the course of the next few hours, Steve decides he has no other choice but to get Tony’s ship to the Chromes to pull out the communications core. That leaves him at a disadvantage because he’ll be without the mode of stealth if he has to leave JARVIS behind. Pepper comes up with the answer, interfacing one of the suits with the Commando.

It takes a lot of jerry-rigging and Skye spends a few hours with her head in the communications panel of the Commando, swearing to herself as Fitz hangs over her and Coulson hovers like an angry mother hen. In the end she’s successful if a little leery of her handiwork.

“I can’t promise it will work like a hundred percent or anything. It should highjack their identification array, and JARVIS should be able to keep them off your back long enough to enter into their atmosphere, but I’m worried about the interlock and how far away you’ll be and the interface frying and the-.”

Steve holds up his hands and wards her off. “It’s fine, whatever you can give me is good.”

She looks up at him, her long hair shadowing the grease marks on her cheeks. A quick nod of her head and she pops up on her tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. “Just get it done, Captain.”

She disappears down the corridor of the Commando as Jane and Rhodes stalk into the small cockpit. Jane looks like she’s chewed nails, spit them out, and decided to chomp on granite rocks instead. 

“I can’t do it, Captain, you need Tony for this,” Jane says.

“I’m not sure-.” Steve answers while Rhodes interjects. “She’s the only one we got. I’m not doing it.”

“How the hell do you expect me to do it? I am not an artificial intelligence expert, you know. Hyper dimensionality, I’m all over that, but this shit-.”

“Yeah, yeah, she can’t do it,” Darcy says as she squeezes into the small hatch. 

Steve scans back and forth and thinks he might get a little dizzy from their argument. “Wait,” he says and holds up his hands to stem the flow of information. “Can we start at the top here? What are we talking about?”

“Colonel Rhodes thinks I’m going to be able to use the communication core to find this hidden code of Ultron’s and – I don’t know-.” Jane looks at Darcy to help her out.

“You know, get it all funked out or something,” Darcy says and winks at Steve.

Steve blinks away the confusion and then says, “You can’t?”

“No, I’ve been trying to tell everyone, I can’t do this,” Jane says.

“Then find someone who can,” Rhodes says.

“Wait, wait, wait. Colonel, you know as well as I know that artificial intelligence isn’t run of the mill these days. It’s been outlawed for decades,” Steve says. “I’m not surprised no one has a good handle on it.”

“Tony did-.” Rhodes says and when he realizes his mistake his expression takes on a tint of regret, almost hurt at his own subconscious fears. “Tony does.”

Steve steadies himself by taking a long breath and then releasing it. “Listen, both of you. Just get Tony’s ship to the Chromes, get the core out, and then go to the Rendezvous point. I will meet you there with Tony.”

“And if you don’t, ‘cause, well, you know,” Darcy asks with a lifted brow.

“No, I don’t know, now,” Steve says and ushers them out of the cockpit. “If you please, I need to get some calculations completed so I can lift this bucket off the ground in t-minus thirty minutes.”

Jane and Darcy depart with only a passing glance of her shoulder from Jane. She offers him a kind of sad smile as support but leaves with her pilot in tow. Rhodes lingers and then turns back to Steve.

“I need to know you can do this,” Rhodes says.

“Consider it already done.”

“He’s important to me, too. If you don’t get him, he won’t survive. Tony’s strong, stronger than most give him credit for but he’s also a bastard who has a smart ass way of talking to people, and I can’t imagine it will get him anywhere with a megalomaniac robot,” Rhodes says.

“Like I said, consider it done,” Steve says and puts out his hand.

Rhodes grips it, grasps Steve’s other shoulder and says, “God damn, he’s right, you know, you make people believe.”

Before Steve’s able to reply, Rhodes heads off the ship and he’s left in the cockpit alone. Within minutes though his crew assembles. Bucky insists on coming, even though he’s worse for wear. Bruce, Natasha, and Clint are on deck. Maria and Sam add to the mix. Thor shoves his way onto the ship as they are closing up the ramp.

“I’m not sure you should come, Thor,” Steve says.

“You may not be sure, but I am sure,” Thor says and marches on board without another word. Steve shrugs and lifts the ramp way. The ship launches and Natasha has them breaking atmosphere in record time. 

They have two major jumps to do and when they hit the second one they plan on skipping through the last to appear within spitting distance of the Inner Belts and the Main Chamber, capital planet. It’s dangerous but will allow them to avoid surveillance outposts looking for ships arriving at a much farther distance. The Inner Belts presents a unique problem when it comes to hyper-dimensional jump so close to the planet itself.

He’s arguing the specifics with Clint and Natasha their fifth day into the trip. “If we jump right into the planet’s axis we won’t be detectable for a good while.”

“A good while,” Clint says and has his arms crossed. “Is that a technical term, because I’m thinking it might not be a technical term.”

“Don’t start Clint,” Steve says but doesn’t look at Natasha for support. He knows she’s on the brink of twisting of his head off with her thighs. “We do this, we jump in and JARVIS will do the rest. Right?”

“As you say, Captain,” JARVIS answers through the comm system at the same time the armor’s head that’s attached to the comm link lights up – it kind of freaks Steve out a little. He only frowns in response. The ends the debate. Neither Clint or Natasha are happy about it.

The crew knows to stay clear of him during the transit. He’s antsy and liable to blow anyone’s head off without warning. He remembers to keep himself out of Bruce’s hair. He can’t have Hulk rampaging through the ship; that would not be good.

The last hours before the final jump, Steve holes up in the guest quarters trying to find a remnant of Tony. There’s articles, clothes, things that were his, but there’s nothing particularly Tony. He rummages through one of Tony’s cases only to find a pad. He taps it on.

“Sir?”

“No, only me JARVIS.”

“Captain, may I be of service to you?”

“No, no, I just,” Steve says and then stops. He bites back his worry, his fears, and says, “Can you display the stars like you do for Tony?”

“Yes, Captain.”

The stars illuminate the room, dazzling and beautiful, brilliant and wondrous. He thinks of them as Tony, as the symbol, as part of Tony. He reaches up and the stars shift slightly under his touch. He searches these heavens, this artificial paradise and then says, “JARVIS can you bring up where the Chromes are?”

The stars move at dizzying speeds and he closes his eyes until he thinks JARVIS might be done. The nebula burns and colors the skies like a splatter of paint strewn across the canvas. The rest of the team will be there, trying to finagle a badly damaged communication core from the belly of a wrecked space station. It hinges on whether or not the space station still exists, if it survived the crushing forces it underwent when the tesseract beam speared it through like a knife to the belly. They are still lucky that the tesseract did no damage to Tony’s ship, of course it didn’t have it’s engine on high or using its artificial gravity as the station had been.

He rolls over and tells JARVIS to shut it off. Covering his face he tries to quiet the mirage of images the fears and the concerns, as well as the better memories. He needs to pull himself together; his entire crew has been steering clear of him because of his mood. The only one that even ventures close is Bucky and he’s pissed at Steve. He thinks Steve is risking it all – and he’s correct.

When it is time to do the final jump, Steve gears up in the hold instead of buckling in with the cockpit crew. It has been decided that those who will be part of the rescue team will parachute out of the hold. It’s the best situation, and like before on Parson’s Point it gives them a little leeway for cover. They will meet up with the Howling Commando again in a little over fifteen hours. 

Maria and Sam accompany him, Bucky’s mechanical arm is still malfunctioning, and he had to step back. It give Steve no end of heartburn to think that he can’t rely on his friend for back up. Sam is there though and it gives him some comfort and confidence. They decided on Maria instead of Natasha because Maria knows Fury better – worked side by side with him. He wishes he’d brought Sharon along, she’d do well in the gunner’s pod but Bucky will have to man the pod and leave the other sniper pod empty. 

Thor stomps in the hold dressed like a Norse god and holding his hammer. Steve grimaces, he’s really not ready for a fight with him.

“I will attend you on this mission,” he states and makes it obvious there will be no argument.

“I’m not sure you should,” Steve says.

“I will and you will need me,” Thor says, waiting for the challenge.

Steve shrugs. “Don’t get in my way.”

“Surely I will not Captain.”

“Hold on, we’re transitioning and it’s gonna be a bumpy ride,” Natasha warns over the comms. Steve grabs onto the hull as the others follow him. The transition throws him against the metal of the ship and then flings him outward. It is all he can do to hang onto the side of the ship and he hears someone let out a small yelp of surprise and pain. The ship judders under Natasha’s control and then skips like a stone on a calm pond. It dives deep then and settles into normal space.

“Captain Rogers, I have initiated the protocol to conceal our identity,” JARVIS reports as Steve picks himself off the floor of the cargo hold. “You have approximately five minutes to jump to safety. I would like to report that the integrity of space-time has been compromised due to the near atmospheric transition into normal space.”

“Damn it,” Steve says as he climbs to his feet and sees the Maria is hunched over her arm and Sam is kneeling next to her. “What is it?”

“Broke my arm,” Maria says and she looks a shade of green that only the Hulk can mimic. Steve looks up as Bruce races into the hold. 

“What now?” Sam says.

“I could come,” Bruce offers.

“No, you need to take care of her arm. Hawkeye?” Steve says over the comm bud in his ear.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Get down here now, I need you to jump with us.”

“Suited and ready in three,” Clint replies.

“Make it two,” Steve says.

“Here,” Maria says and pulls out a small palm sized tube. “Ask for Fury and don’t let them take you to the pits.”

“The pits?”

“Captain,” Maria says through clenched teeth. “You have to remember the Inner Belts might hold a ton of the Elite class but they also hold all of the indentured that serve them. The pits, let’s just say, isn’t a nice place.”

“Okay, you’ll be okay,” he says and thanks her as he stands up. 

Hawkeye slides down the ladder to the cargo hold. He has his bow with him and the arrows slung over his shoulder as he’s taking another chute from the hold. 

“Captain?” Natasha says over the comm.

“Go ahead, Nat.”

“Looks like crappy weather ahead. JARVIS’ little trick didn’t hold for long, they are going to start firing in thirty seconds. I can’t get clear for you to jump safely without a chute.”

“I don’t need a chute,” Steve says and looks down at the small bracelets on each wrist. He holds them up and asks Sam and Clint. “You sure you don’t want one?”

Both of them decline and Steve hits the operation panel on one of Tony’s crates. It’s not their style, nor is it his, but he needs the suit for when he finds Tony. The crate opens at the same time the Commando’s ramp yawns open. The winds whip around them in a fierce storm of forces. Steve steps up to the ramp way, flings the shield into the wide expansive sky and then leaps out of the hold, activating the wrist bracelets at the same time. 

Arms outstretched he plummets through the clouds, the shield is beyond him yet but he tracks it as he falls. Behind him he hears the distinct whine of the armor, opening like a metallic flower to encompass him. It grabs hold of his wrists, anchors itself and then in a dance of motion, the armored plates shift and move to wrap about his body. As soon as the suit clamps on around him, he orders, “JARVIS, I need to pick up my shield, please.”

“As you wish, Captain Rogers.”

The armor redirects and tears through the air like a bullet from a gun. He reaches out and snatches the shield from the sky as he veers past it. 

“JARVIS, status of the rest of the team?”

“All have jumped from the Howling Commando, Captain. The ship has encountered resistance and I am currently working with Ms. Natasha Romanov to evade weapon fire.”

“How many ships?”

“Three have triangulated on the Howling Commando’s position. I suggest, though, Captain that you concern yourself with the dispatched drones zeroing in on the team’s position in the sky.”

“What do we have, JARVIS?” Steve says as he searches the screen in front of him. A scroll of information flows by him and he swallows compulsively trying not to vomit in the helmet. “A little slower would be good.”

“I apologize, Captain.”

“Damn it, is that Hawkeye?”

In the display he sees Clint’s parachute take a hit from incoming drones. They pepper the fabric with holes and he’s plunging toward the land below without restrain. Before Steve’s able to order JARVIS to intercept him, Thor appears out of nowhere without a parachute but very much flying with a damned hammer.

“JARVIS, is Thor using a hammer as a means to fly?”

“It would seem so, Captain.”

“Okay then,” Steve says and chooses to leave that peculiarity for another day when there’s time and he has more energy to thing about impossibilities. He turns his attention back to the target and evading the horde of drones. Using the shield to ward off the blasts from the assault while allowing JARVIS to aim the repulsor of his other arm, he picks off the drones with ease. These are not the advanced drones from the army they saw on Parson’s but Steve doesn’t relax. He’s sure they’ll see that variety soon enough. 

As he heads down to the planet and the ship to ship battle behind him recedes, the flash and brilliance of it is not his concern. He has to hope that Natasha can handle the ships, get the Commando out of the line of fire and wait for them. Targeting the flats of the city, Steve races toward the outer rings of the capital.

“JARVIS, are you detecting any signs of human life?”

“Yes, Captain, there are humans within the city as well as on the outskirts. There are a number of humans gathered toward the outer rings.”

“Plot a course to the outer rings.” 

“We should arrive in eight point three minutes, Captain. We do have drones trailing us.”

“Status of the team?”

What happens next doesn’t matter because it is a reign of confusion. The drones flock around them like a mass of stinging insect that are deadly. Sam swoops over them, aiming and hitting them with brutal accuracy. In a remarkable turn of events, Thor calls down lightening from the cloudless sky, the planet shuddering beneath him. Even as he does so, Hawkeye hangs from his grasp to notch arrows and send them flying to their targets. 

All the while, JARVIS instructs Steve on firing the repulsors, picking off the drones. Steve follows and uses the shield both as a barrier and a weapon. Steve multitasks to direct his strike team to the outer circle of the capital city, watching the HUD for signs of the human encampment. They should be huddled in the farthest section of the city, held up and barricaded away from the onslaught of the drone army. 

Yet there are people in the city, moving through the streets in a kind of perplexing motion as if they are avatars in a bizarre Rag-net vid game. JARVIS takes him further out toward the locale Hill identified as the human stronghold in the Capital City.

The flurry of motion as they navigate toward the outer rings speeds over the HUD and throws Steve, everything blends in colors and flickers of light. It is all too much and too overwhelming to react or understand. He appreciates Tony’s abilities even more as the suit focuses in on a landing area and as he does, the armor flips over he targets a few stray drones and hits them with repulsor blasts before rotating around to land in wide expanse of concrete. It looks like it might have been a parking lot at one time.

As he finds his footing in the open space, a barrage of gun fire besieges him from the squat buildings surrounding the open space. He races over to Clint and Sam as they land and throws up his shield to protect them. Both lurch over his position to fire but Steve calls out, “We surrender. JARVIS announce it, please.”

“Captain, that might not be the most prudent-.”

“Do it.”

In a booming voice JARVIS announces their surrender. It doesn’t stop the pops and crackle of fire, both bullets and blasts assault them.

“Now, JARVIS, remove the suit.”

“Captain, once again I warn you-.”

“Please.” 

He hands over his shield to Clint and then stand up as Thor drops down to the ground to cover him. The suit unfolds from him and he warns Thor off. Raising his hands, he says, “We surrender and need your help.”

The gunfire stops and there is an eerie silence in the square. Steve scans their surroundings. It probably wasn’t a lot but a square, a market place at one time for the less privileged that served the Elite class. The one story buildings have long thin windows that are perfect for cover in a military situation, and he wonders at their construction. As he squints into the light, he says again, “We surrender and need your help.”

“Well, it’s about damned time,” Fury says as he swings open a door and marches across the square. The concrete is pitted and crack, littered with parts of drones and bots scattered about it. They’ve been under siege for a while but it looks like they are holding their own. 

Fury holds up a fist and several of his soldiers climb out of the windows and stand with their rifles pointed at Steve and his team. The drones overhead have disappeared. Steve turns back to Fury and notes the man wears a patch over his one eye that used to be his enhancement with a links to the nets and grids.

“Fury,” Steve says with a nod.

“Come on inside, we can’t hold them off for too long,” Fury says and then signals his soldiers forward. “Sorry, Cap, but we’re going to need the weapons.” He frowns at Thor. “And the hammer.”

“No one touches Mjolnir,” Thor states and lifts an eyebrow at Fury.

“We don’t have time for this crap,” Fury says and rounds up his ragtag soldiers to escort them into one of the buildings that remind Steve of bunkers. Once they are inside the alarms go off and most of the soldiers run back to their positions at the windows. 

Fury looks Steve up and down. In one hand, Steve carries the case with the suit, and in the other he has his shield. Fury shakes his head. Thor has to hunch under the low ceilings. The people in the bunker scurry around and remind Steve of mice in the walls.

“I told you Stark would be trouble, and now look what happened.”

“I’m not here for a lecture, Director Fury-.”

Fury spreads his arms and turns around in the dimly light building. “Does it look like I’m a director anymore, Rogers?”

He shivers but concentrates on Fury. He doesn’t reply.

“I’m not giving you a lecture, far be it from me to give the great Captain America a lecture. But what the hell are you doing here? Considering you just about blew up the entire planet before and sent some nice crappy gravity waves through this time when you fucking shifted through hyper so close to the god damned planet,” Fury says and starts down a series of stairs. “That kind of entrance alerts the whole damned planet.”

Steve follows him as does the rest of the team. “I’m here to ask for your help.”

“You are not getting my help. You and Stark took down the Main Chamber, are you happy with the results?”

“We uncovered the greatest cover up of all time,” Steve says as Fury stops on the landing of the stairwell. It is a metal grate, and the light is only just a single bulb in the ceiling. “Or would you rather still be living for the greater good of a robot.”

“Sometimes, Captain, freedom has a price.”

“This isn’t freedom; this is fear,” Steve pitches back. If Fury wants to play hardball, Steve’s the best in the league. “Are you going to burrow your way around here, hope that Ultron and his drone army doesn’t burn you down?”

“You got a better idea, Captain, I’m listening.”

“I want to go in to his stronghold and take him down.”

“Don’t give me that crap, you want to go in and rescue Stark,” Fury snaps back. The startled look on Steve’s face gives him away. “Oh yes, we know Stark is being held. The whole damned place is worse off because of him, too.”

Fury turns to continue his descent and Steve catches his arm. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Stark’s tapped into every damned enhancement, every human being that has an enhancement on the planet and is controlling them like some kind of god damned vidder,” Fury says. “Do you know what that fucking does? That changes everything. There is no freedom, Captain, there’s just this.” 

“And what’s this?”

“This, you want to know what this is?” Fury says and pulls off his patch. His enhanced eye is fried. “This is the rest of us dealing with the results of your half assed decision to take down the Main Chamber.”

“The Main Chamber isn’t the pathway to freedom, Nick. It’s just another shackle. We’ll all pay the price if we allow the segregation of the classes. I don’t live by the idea that there will be poor always, I live by the hope that as a people, as a society we take care of each other.” 

“That’s nice, Captain,” Fury sneers. “But you weren’t prepared for the results of your actions. What are you prepared to do now?”

“I’m going in there, I’m taking Ultron down, and then I’m going to get Tony and we’re going to change the whole of Human Space. It ends now, everything goes.”

Fury looks at him, pauses, and says, “Well, Captain, it looks like you’re giving the orders now.”

He starts back down the staircase and they descend another two floors into a sub-basement. “You want to get out, you want to get to them, then you have to go through the sublevel. It’ll be nasty.”

“Hill gave us this,” Steve says and pulls out the small tube.

“It’ll give you some access, but it will be difficult. Try to keep your head down, Captain. We don’t need our de facto leader decapitated so early in the game,” Fury says.

“You with us now?” Steve says. 

“Seems you’re the only game in town,” Fury says. “And, for some reason, I like you. But don’t let it go to your head. I’m still not so thrilled about this whole Stark thing.”

Fury directs them through the tunnels as he explains. “Ultron started taking over the whole planet, every last human with any enhancements. Somehow regardless of what kind of enhancement he can manipulate the nerve-computer interface and hijack your brain.”

“So the eye?”

“Yeah, that was fun, lots of good times there,” Fury says. “You get Stark, you make him stop.”

“It’s coerced.”

“Are you so sure?” Fury asks. “Cause it seems like he’s having quite a time of it playing with his little avatars.”

“That’s Ultron, I assure you.”

“Well, I hope you’re right, Captain, because the Stark I knew was a narcissistic bastard.”

“I’m right, now where are we going.” 

“To see the great and powerful Oz,” Fury says.

Steve foregoes commenting but they enter into a small boiler room. The place stinks of oil and grime. Fury unlocks a narrow door, and it creaks open. “Here. That’s the way to the stronghold. It isn’t pretty. You’ll have to climb through some machinery. Don’t know if the big guy will fit, or even if you will.” Fury eyes Thor and then the cramped crawl space. “It’s the utility working space.”

Steve peers in and frowns. “How will we know which way to go?” The place looks like a macabre web of machines and computers.

“Ultron thinks this place is blown apart; it’s the only reason we still have access. He did something to it a week or so ago, though, so we think in the northeast corner you might find a way up to the stronghold.” Fury points in the proper direction. “We’re bugging out though, so you’ll have to find your way yourselves.”

“What about you and the rest?” Steve says.

“Don’t worry about us, Captain. Keeping him on his toes, or you know, whatever an artificial intelligence jackass might have.”

“Thank you, Director,” Steve says and offers his hand. Fury grabs it, gives him a firm shake.

“Take care, now. Get that bastard, Stark, and say hello to Ultron for me.”

“I will, sir.”

“I am no sir,” Fury says as Steve ducks into the crawl space.

All of them get to their hands and knees, creeping through the underbelly of the main capital city. He steers them toward the northeast corner of the sub terrain where Fury reported activity by Ultron and his drones.

They encounter no resistance, just the shattered remains of a once glorious city. At times the fit is too tight and they have to stop and pull apart wires and consoles, disrupting the local connections. He knows they are running against a deadline. With the alterations and destruction they are causing along the way, it is only a matter of time before they are noticed. 

Steve estimates they’ve traveled a good number of klicks and by the time they stop to rest, he hears a distance noise, a din of movement. He places his finger against his lips, signals for everyone to stay put, and then scurries over the machinery as it chugs and creaks away. He sneaks into an air shaft and squeezes through it, using his fingers in the joins of the ducts to haul himself forward. He can barely fit and he’s left the suit case behind, but his shield is on his back. 

He slides along the duct work, sweat pouring into his eyes, the narrow space thick with moisture so much so that it’s hard to breathe. Once he gets the lay of the land, he’ll shuffle back and they’ll find a way in that’s a bit easier to navigate.

With a final grunt, he drags himself forward to peek out of the air shaft. 

He cannot stop the gasp from escaping his lips.

Ultron.

Tony.

Steve bites his own tongue not to call out. Wires, circuits, something, everywhere. His mind reels and he need to control his breathing. Because what he’s seeing he cannot believe. He won’t believe.

Ultron and Tony.

Ultron and Tony.

He pushes back to get a hold of himself. It cannot be, there has to be a better explanation. Ultron is hooked up, Ultron is wired to, Ultron is controlling him. That’s what it is. Steve lies back for a moment, not listening to the buzz in his ear bud at Clint asks him for an update. He trudges forward again to look and to verify what his heart is saying cannot be.

Ultron is connected to Tony. 

Tony’s chest is bare, the arc reactor is gone. There are wires and lights flashing as the heart of the monster that connects to the hole in Tony’s chest. Reams of wires hang between them. Tony reaches out with a tool as Steve watches, adjusts something on the side panel of Ultron’s chest. 

He swallows down the bile as Barton asks again for an update.

“A minute,” Steve whispers. _Give me a minute_. As he turns back to the scene below him, the head of the monster, of Ultron turns and stares right at Steve through the grate. 

It stands up, the flash of red eyes glowing in the silver plated head. Steve scuttles backward but there’s not enough room to move, and the giant hand rips the grate off of the vent and snatches at Steve. He’s able to miss it the first time, but he isn’t lucky the second.

Ultron jerks him out of the vent, one hand gathered in his uniform, the other around his neck. Steve claws at the massive fist around his throat. Air sucks out of his lungs, and he sees patches of darkness, of Tony sitting placidly waiting for his monster to kill Steve. Releasing his uniform, Ultron reaches up and seizes Steve’s hair. 

“You are persistent, Captain. I wonder if you will be as determined without a head.”


	30. Chapter 30

“Cap, come in, Cap, what’s your status?” Clint’s voice is distant, lost to the immediacy of the mechanical hand around his throat.

His reply comes as a guttural choke as he grapples with Ultron, scratching at the monster’s massive metal grip. The hand in his hair twists and jerks Steve’s head to the side; Steve barely musters enough air into his lungs to stay conscious. But he sucks in a wisp of oxygen and then, risking it all, releases his hold on Ultron to grab for his shield.

It opens the door for Ultron to constrict his windpipe even further and black stars bursts appear in his field of vision. All the while he hears Clint and Sam calling to him over the comm link.

“Cap, damn it Steve, come on, where the hell are you?” Sam huffs, his panting into the link tells Steve that they are running, following the duct work toward its eventual end. But they won’t get here on time, not to save him. 

“Your time is over Captain, and it has been over for hundreds of years. The Courtesan is mine now, and will remain mine.” Ultron yanks at Steve’s hair to bring tears to his eyes.

Struggling to unlatch his shield, Steve kicks out impacting hard against the unyielding metal casing with his knee. He knows he’s using every last molecule of oxygen as he fights for freedom. He gurgles in Ultron’s grasp and then smacks his knee in the open chest plate of the robot, again. 

Ultron stumbles and Steve shoves his knee into the circuitry again as he drags the shield from his back and stabs it into the robot’s neck joint. Sparks fly and Ultron’s red eyes flare bright as he slams Steve into the concrete wall. His head jars and he feels something give way in his shoulder but, ignoring it, Steve pounds again and again with the edge of the shield. 

With the hand holding his hair, Ultron whips Steve into the consoles close to where Tony sits, who remains unmoved by their battle. Steve doesn’t have the time to wonder at it, he chokes out a cry, but Tony stares blankly, dully ahead. Ultron slings Steve against the equipment, hitting him repeatedly on sharp metal edges, on wires and circuits in the hidden workshop. Nothing deters Steve; he batters Ultron over and again, hoping that vibranium can break through vibranium. 

The circuits fizzle and crack, snapping as he fights, but Ultron clenches his hand around Steve’s throat and the world blacks out. Heaving the shield blindly, Steve drives it into the shoulder joint and the hand automatically releases. He coughs and chokes but still swings the shield around to attack the wrist of the hand clutching his hair. 

Ultron hauls him up as if he might flip Steve over his shoulder but an arrow slices the air and hits one of the fiery eyes. The monster skitters, stops, and turns as Steve bashes at the wrist joint again. Another arrow finds its mark on the chest plate and Ultron loosens his grip enough that Steve yanks free and runs full forces with the shield on its side into the robot’s chest. He aims at the long net of wires that lead back to Tony. 

Hitting them, arcs of blue lightning explode and Tony groans behind him. Steve never looks back, he knows if he does he won’t be able to finish the job. If he’s causing any pain to Tony, Steve might falter and lose all of his advantage. He digs the shield into the wires as he hangs onto Ultron’s torso, legs wrapped around him. 

“You think you can disable me, Captain?” Ultron draws out the arrow from his eye socket as another arrow sweeps by him. He drives the arrow at the corner of Steve’s neck, but Steve bends out of the way and bangs the shield against the wires again. They sizzle and crackle in response. 

“Hawkeye, need support. Get Tony out of here,” Steve manages to grunt out.

“Hanging out of the duct, Cap, but can’t get into the room. Stark’s pointing an assault weapon at the vent.”

Steve whacks at the chest plate even as he hears Tony click the assault weapon, and Clint scrambling back into the vent. Ultron seizes Steve by the upper arm and throws him across the room. Blocking the impact with the shield, Steve hits the opposite wall and falls in a heap to the floor. Every bone aches, every nerve feels on fire. 

“You think you can disconnect me from the Courtesan?” Ultron lurches over to Tony and wrenches out the wires. Like an automaton, Tony stands unflinching and unaffected by Ultron’s presence or his actions. He wavers on his feet only slightly when Ultron disconnects the knot of wires. “It isn’t simple wires you have to be concerned about, Captain. What controls him was already inside infecting him, corrupting him, only waiting for someone to exploit it.”

Steve gathers himself up, seeking out visual confirmation from Clint – hanging out of the vent again across the workshop – that he has Ultron in his sights. Clint only clicks once into the earbud. Steve confirms with a nod. The arrow is launched and rings true, puncturing into the base of Ultron’s head. The monster turns and glowers at Clint.

“Kill him.”

Tony raises the assault rifle and targets Clint. The arrow still hangs from the base of Ultron’s skull, ticking off the seconds with a tinny beep. Scurrying back into the vent, Clint takes cover and Steve leaps across the space to knock Tony down and lift the shield over them as the arrow head detonates. 

The explosion shatters the head of the robot and sends the shrapnel outward, the force of it strong enough to blow a hole right through to the sky above them. Steve lays on top of Tony, shield up, as a cascade of debris falls. The underground workshop partially collapses as smaller secondary explosions break girders and joists to the structure. Over the comm link, he hears a yelp of surprise and the sound of Hawkeye scuttling through the air vent.

When the dust settles, Steve peers over his shield to see the pile of mortar and rebar over the body of the robot. Underneath him, Tony struggles and fists him in the side of the face to get out. Steve releases his hold of the shield and reaches out to Tony, holding him, keeping him within arm’s length.

“Tony, Tony, it’s okay now,” Steve says and glances back at the heap that had been Ultron. He looks back at Tony. “He’s gone. And Clint is going to get a damned hit in the head for using that arrow.”

Over the comm link, Clint says, “Well, don’t blame it on me, it was Stark’s tweaking. I didn’t know it did that.”

Tony snatches his arm away from Steve, rights himself, and stands up. With a sneer he says, “You think disabling the metal body stops it all? You think that’s it?” 

The anger, the hatred in Tony’s eyes, his whole demeanor freezes Steve. “Tony, no, I understand we still have a lot-.”

“No, you do not understand Captain. That’s because you’re too stupid to understand anything, aren’t you?” Tony kicks at the scattered parts of the broken mechanical body. Wires hang loose like entrails from the arc reactor hole.

“Tony, I-.”

“Cap, what’s going on?” Sam says over the link.

“This isn’t the end, a metal body means nothing to me.”

“Metal body?” Steve says and climbs to his feet. Alarm bells screech in his head and he stares at Tony as if he’s seeing him for the first time.

Tony studies him, looks him up and down, and snickers, “I can appreciate human beauty. I can understand why he might have been attracted to you.”

“Tony?” Steve says and feels as if he might suffocate, but not on the dust floating through the air, the small fires from the secondary blasts set off by the first. His throat tightens, his lungs burn for air his body won’t pull in. “What are you, what are you?”

Tony opens his arms as if on display at the same time Steve hears over his earbud. “Cap, Thor and I are making our way there, the air vent’s blocked. We gotta get Hawkeye free first.”

“Do you still not understand, Captain? The Courtesan Stark had been made for me. It took time to do it, to get everything in place.”

“Tony,” Steve murmurs and knows that he’s not speaking to his love at all. Tony is gone.

“But Stane had been most compliant with my agents. Pierce was a good tool and followed all of the instructions.”

“I don’t want to hear-.”

“But don’t you want to know that when Tony Stark was kidnapped it had been me behind it, all along. The Ten Rings, Stane, the Corporations, all of them in the end I command. Don’t you want to know that the nanobots inside of Stark had been mine to activate and poison him?”

Steve shakes his head and eyes his shield. It’s a little over a meter from his foot. “Don’t try and fuck with me, Ultron. I’m not stupid. You wouldn’t have risked letting Tony out of your sight the first time you captured him or even when you captured us. You wouldn’t have risk it all.”

Tony tips his head to the side and smiles. “You’re clever, good Captain. But how clever are you?”

He hears something from behind him whine as gears and motors switch on. Turning he spots the robot torso of Ultron with one arm to move it shift in the debris pile. It’s chest plate ripped open, but the heart of it still operational.

“Tony, whatever he’s doing to you, stop it,” Steve says and ducks for his shield at the same time the torso aims and shoots a beam, a high energy pulse from the center of the chest. He throws up the shield and the impact of the energy pushes him back, and he slides into the wall. 

Tony stomps over to him as the beam shuts off. There’s nothing in Tony’s eyes, his expression, Steve recognizes. He’s alien to Steve. “You don’t seem to understand.”

“You keep saying that but it’s you who don’t understand,” Steve says and leaps to his feet. He dives at Tony, knocking him down and jumping on top of him. “Whatever you did to him, it’s over. You’re over.”

“Captain, do I look over? I control your lover’s body. Yes, and his mind, I know everything he once knew, everything about you, everything about him, and every nuance and weakness of the human race. I own him, and you, and all of humanity.” 

“You own nothing,” Steve says and hooks his hand around Tony’s arm to drag him to his feet. “Tell that thing to shut down.”

Tony smiles at him and says, “Or what, will you strike the man you love.”

“If I have to, yes,” Steve says and hopes Ultron won’t test him. “Sam?” He could really use some help.

The torso zeroes in on him again and Steve considers Tony, and says, “Please, Tony, don’t make me do this.”

A fleeting look of regret and pain crosses Tony’s face but then he snarls and the torso bursts to life, aiming at Steve. Steve throws up the shield, blocks the shot, and then grabs Tony, whips him around and slams a fist into his face. The torso sputters and sparks, and then lies fallow. 

As he hits Tony again, trying to pull his punches to soften the blows, he flings the shield at the torso, striking it square in the chest and then seizes the shield out of the air as it ricochets back. Turning back to Tony, Steve grasps his throat and jerks him against the wall. “Do not test me.”

“What is there to test, Captain, you have nothing left. I took him from you. I used the advantage. I used Stark’s weakness, you, to manipulate him, to conquer him. What weakness do you think I have?” The tyranny, the hatred cast over Tony’s features almost leaves Steve undone. 

He’s not going to fall for it. “You may have him now, but you are just a machine, and all machines can be turned off, disabled, and dismantled.”

Tony leans forward and, with a jeer, says, “I am not a machine, Captain, I am your god.” He cracks a wrench against Steve’s temple causing him to stagger back, opening his hand that fists at Tony’s throat. 

Tony advances on Steve, wrench in one hand as he scoops up the forgotten assault weapon with the other. Clambering to his feet, Steve put up the shield and shakes his head.

“Sorry, but no, you’re a fallible machine, that’s taken over a very fragile body, a human being that can be harmed, even killed.” Steve swallows down the bile at the thought of harming Tony, killing Tony. 

“I am not part of this vessel, I am only using this vessel as a means to communicate with a lower being such as yourself. I exist beyond this momentary body, this frail world.”

“Oh yes, I heard you locked up your code in hyper-dimensionality,” Steve says and Ultron controlled Tony stutters to a stop. “Oh, see, you didn’t know that we figured that out, did you? That means Tony was able to hide information from you and that means Tony is still in there.”

“It means nothing Captain, when I kill you and master the whole of humanity, I will raise the whole of your pathetic race.”

“It means, Tony isn’t going to do this, it means Tony is going to save me.” Steve throws his shield down. “It means Tony is still alive and you can’t stop him.”

Ultron launches Tony at him, bashing the wrench at his face but Steve catches his arm and holds him. “Stop, Tony, you can stop him.”

“Cap, where the hell, we’re coming. What the hell is going on?” The voices in his earbud all mash together as he struggles in a tug of war with Tony. He doesn’t want to hurt Tony, but he might have to. He’s stronger than Steve gave him credit for, his own muscles tremble from the stress of the battle for the wrench.

“Get the suit here, get the suit,” he grunts as he shoves Tony back. But Tony lurches forward again, swinging the wrench at the same time he fires the assault weapon. 

The weapon’s fire hits Steve with a glancing blow and he stumbles backward. The wrench comes down and smacks him in the head again. 

“Captain, we are on our way,” Thor says.

“Get the suit, get JARVIS to get the suit ready,” Steve says and lashes out. He kicks with his knee to hit Tony in the groin. Tony bowls over and Steve pushes him onto the floor. He clips Tony in the jaw just as Tony clouts him in the head again with the wrench. Somehow the assault rifle is lost in the struggle but Tony growls and rips at Steve with his nails, his teeth, and the wrench. All the while, Steve pulls back, tries not to hurt Tony, but knows he’s going to have to do it, concede and strike him full force. 

With a final apologize he lifts up fist and says, “I’m sorry.”

His fist collides with the side of Tony’s face, knocking him out cold. His body goes limp and he crumples into a heap on the wrecked workshop floor just as Thor and Sam with Clint limping behind them enter.

“Crappers, what the hell happened?” Hawkeye asks, surveys the room but focuses on the bloodied body of Tony on the floor.

“The suit?” Steve says as he pants.

“Here,” Thor says and hands it over to Steve. 

Steve taps on the earbud. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?” 

“I need you to put the suit on Tony, but don’t, under any circumstances let him have control of it,” Steve says.

“I would like to know why, Captain.”

Steve inhales a deep breath but still can’t get his breathing under control. “Tony’s not in control. Ultron is.”

Sam points to the pile of rubble. “Um, what?”

“Ultron took over Tony’s brain somehow. I don’t know, I think it has to do with the nanobots in Tony’s body.” Steve scans the area. “Which reminds me we need to find his arc reactor.”

As Steve searches around the remains of the burnt out workshop, the suit comes alive and encompasses Tony. The suit of armor stands up and JARVIS announces from within the suit, “Captain, Sir has several other reactors and they should be in the crates that the Commando is hauling.”

“Okay, good,” Steve says and feels as wrecked as the room around him. “Can you make sure he doesn’t wake up?”

“I am monitoring his condition. I have noted that his brain is showing signs of a mild traumatic brain injury that may be due to the reprogramming of the nanobots to take over his brain functions. I am keeping him stable and sedated, Captain.”

Steve scrubs a hand through his hair, notes the drops of blood coming away on his fingertips, and then says, “We have to get out of here. We need to disable Ultron as soon as possible. He’s not only controlling Tony but every single enhanced human being out there.”

“Let us go then, Captain,” Thor says, and points to the hole in the ceiling.

“We’re going to meet resistance,” Steve says, and then directs. “Falcon, I need you to take point, find us a clear path. No mercy. Thor, you need to carry Hawkeye and call the lightning down, light up the bastard drones. JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Can you carry me while flying that thing?”

“Yes, Captain, without a doubt.”

“Then let’s do this thing.”

JARVIS moves the armor into place, wraps an arm around Steve’s waist and points to the sky. Falcon crawls up through the hole, gears up the jet pack and takes off first, clearing out a path and reporting no sentries on duty. Thor along with Clint is second, and then finally they lift off.

As they fly toward the local rendezvous point, Steve closes his eyes and tries to stabilize the horror eating away inside. He’s trying not to think about it, he’s forcing his brain to stay quiet, but it isn’t possible. Jamming him from every recessed corner of his brain is the terror that he’ll never have Tony back.The thought that Ultron manipulated the situation so thoroughly, abducted Tony and then activated the nanobots to control him clenches tight in Steve’s belly, roils his senses, and paralyzes his sanity. 

The drones come as do sentry police ships. Thor throws lightning down on them, a trick Steve had seen years ago. He’s not sure how Thor does it. He’s not going to ask. Falcon whizzes around them keeping the periphery clear. His acrobatics loop around them at the same time he targets the drones and sends volley after volley of blasts at their enemies. 

“JARVIS, how is Ultron commanding them to attack us if Tony’s not conscious?”

“I am unsure, Captain. The nanobots must be connected to the hyper-dimensional sector where Ultron is secured.”

“Damn it,” Steve says, and then turns to his strike team as they veer in an attempt to lose their tail. “We have to get there soon. Ultron still has control of the bots.”

“Got it, Cap,” Falcon says and sweeps the drones following them with an arc of fire. 

Ignoring the massive fireballs behind them Steve, calls out the play as they continue forward. Somehow Hawkeye’s able to hang from Thor’s arm and sling off a few shots as the lightning flashes around them. JARVIS comes into action, sweeping a round of repulsor blasts at the ships chasing them. The explosions lend them enough cover to snake around a burnt out section of the city toward the outer rings and safety. JARVIS ensure the scanners cannot detect them by continually sending out interference.

They land near the outskirts to the farthest circle of the city. What drones swarm overhead are picked off by the Commando, with a series of volleys from the gunner’s pod. Racing to the ramp way as it opens, they climb aboard and the ship closes up and lifts off in one not so smooth motion. The ship jostles them and they are thrown about the cargo hold as Natasha fights to both maneuver the ship for breaking atmosphere and to avoid the enemy attack as JARVIS reports that his interference program has been hacked.

Bruce and Hill appear in the hold, and Steve orders as he takes to the ladder to the cockpit. “Get Tony out of the armor, but keep him sedated. Clint, you’re with me. Sam, go to the sniper’s pod and help Bucky. Thor to the upper hatch, you can call lightning as long as we’re within the atmosphere, right?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Do it,” Steve says and rushes with Clint to the cockpit. Clint takes his seat in the navigator’s chair and Natasha looks over her shoulder at Steve.

“Kind of making it a little rough on us,” she says and pulls the ship sharply to starboard. He rolls with it, hanging onto the bulkhead, his injured shoulder protesting.

“Thought you liked the challenge.”

“Most of the time, right now though, would like a day or two off, Rogers,” Natasha says as she fights with the controls. “Clint give me the path to breaking.”

“Almost there, give me a minute, I was just buried under rubble.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Natasha says and then flicks a switch. “Bucky, we got five more on the port side.”

“Sam’s in the pod and Thor’s outside the hatch.”

“Christ,” she mutters. 

“Bring Thor in, we got the path to break atmosphere,” Clint says and hits the console with a number of complicated adjustments.

Tapping his comm link, Steve says, “Thor close her up.”

“As you say, Captain,” Thor complies and, as soon as they have confirmation that Thor’s closed up the ship, the Commando shoots through the atmosphere, breaking the sound barrier and then skipping in a short jump to the access point of hyper dimensionality.

“Damn it, Clint, what the hell did you just do?” Steve says and notes they are clear of their attackers, and the planet.

“A little trick I’ve been working on since way back when we had that trouble out in the Rims. Remember the one I got into trouble with SHIELD for? Well, I figured out a way to jump but not really. Not a real hyper jump but a skip. Thought I’d throw that in now,” Clint smiles and winks at him.

“Can we go to hyper dimensionality, Nat?” Steve says and hangs onto the ship.

“Yeah, I’m calling it in five.”

The transition takes a lot out of the ship and Bruce has to spend the next few hours hammering away at the engine instead of caring for Tony. Steve sits watch by Tony’s side, Bruce strung him up with sedatives. Steve waits by Tony’s side and cleans out the wounds. There are some burns around the hole in his chest, and obvious places where he’d been beaten before Steve came on the scene. JARVIS helped Steve find the arc reactor and instructed him on how to replace it.

“How’d Ultron get it out in the first place, I thought Tony had it specially keyed just to him?” Steve says, but JARVIS doesn’t answer from the ship’s comm system. The answer is clear, Tony had been tortured. His wounds are more serious than Steve thought. There are old bruises along his torso and small burn marks along the soles of Tony’s feet. He looks half-starved and even though he hadn’t been held by Ultron for all that long, it was long enough to do real harm. His dehydrated with putrid wounds.

The hatch to the guest quarters opens and Bucky enters. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Steve dips a cloth in a bowl of cold water, and then lays it on Tony’s forehead. He’s feverish from the infected wounds. They can’t even wake him, because Ultron has him, still. Steve bites back the sickness gathering in his throat.

“How you holding up?” Bucky stands to the side, his mechanical arm whines as he moves it. It’s still malfunctioning, giving him fits.

“Great, okay, I’m not,” Steve says and puts the bowl aside. “He’s gone, you know, he’s gone. He’s lying right here, but he’s gone.”

“You don’t know that,” Bucky says. “We might be able to do something.”

“What?” Steve says. “Ultron hid his code, and we needed Tony to find it and destroy it. Without Tony, Ultron’s won, he’s literally everywhere.”

“That’s not the scrawny kid that never knew when to back down from a fight,” Bucky says.

“Maybe this fight is too much for me?”

Before Bucky answers, JARVIS interrupts, “Captain.” 

“Not now, JARVIS,” Steve says and stands up. “You want to go get something to eat?” 

Bucky nods but JARVIS says, “I’m sorry, Captain, but I have important information.”

“Yes, go ahead,” Steve says and blows out a pent up breath as Bucky rubs his shoulder. His friend’s eyes are kind, quietly understanding.

“Ultron may not be able to access the nanobots invading Sir since we are not anywhere near a communication’s core at this time,” JARVIS says.

“Wait, come again?”

“It seems reasonable to assume that since Ultron uses the nets and grids both interstellar and local to access normal space, then when you are not interlinked to the system, Ultron would not be able to access sir.”

Steve weighs the possibilities and then looks up at Bucky. 

He only shrugs. “Hey don’t look at me, I’m just the sniper in the bunch.”

“JARVIS, get Bruce up here, now. I don’t care what he’s working on, get him up here.”

After much haranguing, Steve discusses the theory with Bruce and the man only scratches his head and purses his lips. “Hmm, maybe. It could work. If the theory is that Ultron connects to Tony through the nets and grids, then only access points would work right now, since Ultron turned off the interconnectivity. Only places at nodes would work, so we could bring Tony out of sedation safely.”

“Do it,” Steve says. By this time Natasha and Sam are hovering in the hatch. He’s surprised Clint and Sam haven’t made an appearance. 

“Are you so sure, what if JARVIS is wrong,” Natasha says.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Steve states and then adds, “We need the intel. We need to know what Ultron’s planning, this is the way.”

“Or a way for you to risk us all,” Natasha says, and her unspoken words echo in the cabin.

Steve ignores her, and turns to Bruce. The guilt rides up but he smashes it down as he says, “Do it, lighten the sedation.”

Bruce considers Natasha but swallows down any reply and turns the sedation line off. “He’ll probably wake up in the next fifteen to thirty minutes. Keep him monitored, he might be in some pain from his injuries and infection. And you know, you might want to make sure he’s not driven by a crazed artificial intelligence and all.” Bruce shuffles out of the cabin to finish his work on the engine. 

Natasha only offers him a shake of her head and leaves. Bucky wishes him luck and tells him he’ll be outside if he’s needed. Steve closes the hatch. 

It only takes about twenty minutes for Tony to move slightly in the bed and then groan. Steve settles on the mattress next to Tony, waiting and second guessing himself. Tony peels an eye open and then the other one. He lifts up a hand and covers his face. 

“Fuck, I feel like drop me through a wormhole, did someone drop me through a wormhole?”

Steve leans down and kisses Tony’s lips. “Tony?”

Tony peaks out from between his fingers. “What’s going on, Cap? Where are we?”

“On the Commando, what do you remember?” Steve asks. He gathers up Tony’s hand and pets it. He wills Tony to stay with him, now, forever.

“Being on my ship, then that fucker Ultron. Damn it, where is he?” Tony struggles to sit up but drops down with a moan. “I really did dropped through a wormhole, didn’t I?”

“Something like that,” Steve says, smiling but then he sighs. “Tony, you have to help us out.”

“What do you need, Captain of my heart?” Tony snickers at him. All the old emotions flood back, and Steve only wants to hold Tony, kiss him, take these sacred moments and cherish them.

He pushes back his own needs and says, “The nanobots inside of you, Ultron-.”

Tony lifts up both of his hands and scrubs at his face, raking through his hair with his nails. “Damn it to hell, he reprogrammed them.”

“You remember?” Steve says. He’s not sure if he should be happy or horrified.

“Yeah, yeah I remember,” Tony says and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “He reprogrammed them, took out my arc reactor first.”

“How?”

Tony throws down his hands and he looks ruined, torn from his inner soul and scattered to the winds. “Does it matter, Captain? Do you want a blow by blow?”

“No, Tony, I’m sorry, I just want to understand?” No one should have to withstand torture; Steve knows this intimately. 

“Of course,” Tony says and there’s a sound at the end that reminds Steve of a beaten dog. “Of course, not, because you’re good and right and everything that’s best about people. What the hell am I?”

“Tony, I don’t, just – don’t do this to yourself. Ultron took advantage.”

“I knew he could do it, all right? He said he would do it when he captured the last time,” Tony says.

“But he didn’t.”

“He’s a particularly new kind of evil, Captain. He likes to watch suffering because he doesn’t feel, doesn’t understand emotion. It is a vicarious thrill intellectually for him.”

“So, he did all this for shits and giggles?”

“Not exactly but he’s essentially immortal he could wait it out, he doesn’t care. But I couldn’t wait, I couldn’t watch him do what he did to you.

It dawns on Steve and takes the wind out of his lungs like a fist to the solar plexus. “Damn it, you’d already gave him the codes, didn’t you? Before the rescue. You coded him so he could take over all the enhanced humans.”

Tony forces himself into an upright position, his color drained, his face hollow. “Yes, I did. I did it for us. I thought I could change things. I thought I could figure out how to stop him, if we could get free, I could stop him before he could do any damage.”

“What? You gave the most powerful people over to him, Tony. Most of the Elite class, the people who decide our destiny, our lives, those people are enhanced. Why would you do that?” Steve says and hates the fact he’s regretting waking Tony up.

“Because I wanted to save you, because I thought if I could somehow link up my nanobots to him I could control him-.”

“What? You’re the one who connected him to you? You downloaded him to you? You agreed to what he wanted?” Steve says and the cabin sinks away as the insanity of the plan blurs everything around him. 

“Listen to me, listen to me,” Tony says, grabbing at Steve’s arms. 

Steve can see it is taking all of his strength to speak, to try and make Steve understand.

“I figured out how to link him the enhancements like he wanted. But I needed a way to shut Ultron down. I thought we could do it with the communication’s core, get him out of the secluded sector he’s hidden his code in – the hyper dimension. But-.”

“But? There is no buts, why would you even think of a but,” Steve says, jumping up, pacing the close quarters.

“Because that’s how life works, Captain. Nothing is perfect in this world, in this damned universe. Nothing.” Tony wavers on the bed and Steve steps forward to help him, but he shrugs it off. “Listen, I knew that we had a good chance of not succeeding with the core. We still don’t have a good chance. What I do know is that linked to him, I can effectively take him out.”

“You can’t because when we’re in range of the communication networks, the nodes, or anything that even links to the nets, you have no control over your own body. He does. He’s controlling you.”

“Well, there is that problem,” Tony says, the only devilish attitude comes through as he speaks. “But listen, he’s going to throw the switch and open up the comm nets to interconnectivity again. He has to, in order to get control of me again. Once he does, all bets are off.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. “So?”

“You need to disable him through the link in me.”

“The link he put there in the first place. This is his endgame, Tony. He’s been playing this for years. He wanted you because of your brilliance but your blind to his- you have to get this – _you’re playing right into his hands._ ”

Fevered, weak, Tony grapples with his failing body, and climbs to stand. “I know all of this, Captain. I need you to understand this is the only way.”

“What is the only way?”

“A direct electrical charge, you need to fry the bastard when he’s linked to me and through the nets, the active nets. It will corrupt his code like a severe hard drive crash.”

“And it will kill you,” Steve says.

“You’ll resuscitate me.”

“You don’t know if it will work,” Steve replies and feels the threat over him, hanging like a weight over his head. He has no other choice. “We can still try the core. We can do that.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he has access to my memories, he knows what I talked about and planned with you,” Tony says and stands, trembling on his feet.

“If he knows that, then he’ll know this.”

“He shouldn’t, not immediately. But as soon as he wakens he will.”

“Why not?” 

“Because he doesn’t think I’d ever kill myself. I told him that and he knows it isn’t a lie. Because it’s not. He’s at our mercy on this one, Steve. The core, well, that could work, but he can find ways to hide. He might be connected to every single enhanced human out there, it doesn’t matter, he’s connected to me, I’m his core.”

Steve drops onto the bed, face in hands and then looks up and says, “You crazy self-sacrificing son of a bitch. Why would you do this? Why?”

“Believe me, if I could, I would figure out a different way, but we don’t have time and this is all I have.”

In the end, Steve concedes, but in his heart he keeps up hope that they can find another way. Tony collapses shortly after they speak and spends the next week in a fevered state. Bruce thinks the nanobots have been triggered to keep Tony weak when Ultron is not controlling him. 

At one point, Steve has Tony’s head in his lap and cards his fingers through Tony’s hair. The stars are projected above them and Tony’s barely aware. According to JARVIS the nanobots are taxing his immune system leading to difficulties in fighting off the infection. He’s not sure how it works but JARVIS tells him that the nanobots are impeding his cellular immunity, but that the medicines Bruce is pumping him full of should combat the issues, eventually.

As they sit and study the stars, Tony rolls over and reaches up to Steve to cup his cheek. 

“Are you okay?”

“Never better,” Tony whispers. They are getting close to Earth, once they are too close and the nets are within comm distance, Tony will no longer be Tony. Clint plotted a course that brought them a long distance away from Earth, leading to a weaker connection to the now active nets. Ultron is searching for Tony. In addition, JARVIS is keeping all signals scrambled into the ship. 

“I think that’s a little bit of a white lie,” Steve says and his voice is fond and soft.

“You worry over nothing, dearest Captain.”

“I worry over your harebrained ideas,” Steve says. 

“I’ve had worse,” Tony says.

Steve leans down and kisses Tony’s heated forehead and says, “Oh yeah, when?”

“When I hired onto a bucket of bolts to transport me to my sponsor.” He smiles and it is sweet and giving and melancholy. “Steve?”

The use of his name surprises him and he brings all his attention to Tony.

“Remember me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Just remember me. Please, promise me.”

“You’re not dying.”

“No, I’m not, But remember me,” Tony says and audibly swallows. His eyes looks like glassy pools, his skin sallow and translucent. “And remind me, okay?”

“Remind you of what?”

“That you love me?”

“Always,” Steve says and places a tender kiss on Tony’s mouth. It tastes of honey and spring and hope, and it only reminds Steve of everything he will lose.

By the time they reach Earth, Tony’s fever breaks and they decide to set down outside the encampment and communicate with everyone to stay away. They sedate Tony before they reach Earth and the comm nodes. Pepper complains bitterly, but Steve won’t wait for her to join them, they have to get this over with, they have to end Ultron. 

“Are you sure? We have the core?” Pepper says via their radio link. “We could try, Jane has been working on the codes with Skye.”

“Yes, we’re sure. Ultron knows about that plan.”

“Then if what you say is correct, he also has an idea of what you’re planning on doing out in the desert,” Pepper says her voice tinny over the link.

“Yes, he does, but Tony assured me we can do this and be able to destroy Ultron or isolate him.” Steve huffs out his frustration. “Listen, Pepper, I have to go, I’ll call you soon.” He ends the connection

They cart Tony outside of the Commando. They are in the middle of a dried lakebed. The canyon around them used to be the land, the shore of a large metropolis. Now all he can see is the faded twisted memories of a city long destroyed. The winds are dry and cold. It surprises Steve because the sun is so bright in the sky like his memories of summer in the Rims. Yet, the chilled air cuts through them and the wind seems endless, picking up dust and grit. It burns his eyes.

Bruce and Thor place the cot with Tony down while the entire crew gathers around it. “From the scans I could do,” Bruce says. “It looks like most of the nanobots are gathered around his brain. The arc reactor hasn’t been the least bit effective in moving them but it has slowed their progress.”

Steve only nods. He waits and doesn’t give a signal but Bruce cuts off the sedation; they have to wait another twenty minutes, but when Tony does revive it is clear that Ultron has taken control. He sits upright and, when he sees Steve, snickers.

“And now, Captain, are you going to try and stop me.”

“Thor?” Steve says and turns to the demigod.

“As you wish, Captain.”

“Now.”

The endless sky roils with sudden darkening clouds, the churn and mix of them harkens to tornadoes as a greenish tint touches the sky. Steve shields his eyes as the sands and dirt swirl about them. The particles pelt his bare face and hands, and Tony starts toward Steve as if to attack, but the lightning cracks through the air, arcing and splitting the sky open with a thunderous clap. The strike hits true and before Tony can charge Steve the bolt seizes him and he shrieks, his body rigid and his screams muted. Steve fists his hands, forcing himself not to react as Sam and Bucky grip his upper arms keeping him in place.

It seems to last forever, it seems to crackle and burst around them like a flurry of light and sound and hell. It only lasts less than seconds and then the bolts disappears and Thor drops his hammer and hurries to Tony’s side to catch him as he falls. 

“On the cot, on the cot,” Bruce yells and Thor quickly deposits Tony back onto the small gurney from the Commando. Bruce connects the leads to the crash cart they keep in the Commando for those very rare emergencies.

Steve stands to the side, chewing on the nail on his index finger, thinking how wrong this all is. Tony should not have had to sacrifice himself to burn Ultron out of the system, Steve should have looked for a better way. This is all his fault, he deserves to die not Tony.

“Out of the way,” Bruce says and attaches the compression paddles to Tony’s bare chest and activates them. He injections Tony with atropine directly into his heart. They attached leads to Tony’s chest to monitor his response. The screen of the small portable displays only a blank line. 

“Come on, come on,” Natasha murmurs close by and Steve closes his eyes. 

“Damn it,” Steve whispers and sting of tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Bucky clamps an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“One more time,” Bruce says and notches up the compressions. He hits him again with dose of epinephrine and Thor paces away, and Steve shakes his head – no one shouldn’t feel any guilt – all of the guilt is Steve’s for not finding a better way.

The monitor beeps to life and Maria yelps out a surprise. Steve opens his eyes and dashes to Tony’s side. The heart monitor tells him that Tony’s alive but he’s not conscious he’s limp and pale, and there’s something missing, something bright and brilliant is gone, faded.

“Let’s get him in the Commando,” Bruce says and gently moves Steve out of the way. The next moments blend into a distorted motion as they move Tony to the Commando, lift off, and contact the main base instructing them to have medics ready. Bucky takes pity on him and takes over as Steve sits to the side, numb from what’s happened.

It takes less than five minutes to get to the landing area for the settlement and the medical unit rides up to the dock in an old beat up truck with canvas hood on the back. Steve doesn’t protest as they move Tony to the truck but insists on riding along. No one stops him. Bucky pushes the medics aside to allow Steve to climb into the bed of the truck and sit next to the unconscious man.

Once at the base, it becomes only a matter of time. Steve slumps in a chair next to Tony’s bed as Pepper and Rhodes take turns watching over Tony. He’s not sure what the doctors tell him; it might be something about traumatic brain injuries, or coma, or chicken pox. He has no idea. His brain buzzes with the numbness, the utter fatigue. Two days into his vigil, Natasha shakes Steve awake and tells him to go and get something to eat. Pepper promises to stay with Tony. Reluctantly he agrees. He stumbles to the shared dining hall, the mess, and accepts whatever food is offered. He’s not sure, he doesn’t even taste it.

Natasha maneuvers him like he’s a puppet and pushes on his shoulder to get him to sit at a wide wooden table with a bench. She forces him to pick up the fork and tells him to eat.

“The good news is that there’s not a sign of Ultron. Foster’s been studying dimensionality and can’t find any sign of him. Fitz and Skye have been taking hours to review all of the data they’ve collected. It looks good, Rogers.” Natasha bends down and tries to catch a glimpse of his gaze. “Come on where’s that Captain America resolve?”

“Burnt out,” he says and knows it is true. “Been at this too long.”

“Well, it has been one hell of a ride,” Natasha says. “There’ll be a lot to put back together again. Already Corps are vying for position, if we want to stop the inequality, you’re going to have to step up to the plate and bat it out of the park.”

“Ancient baseball analogies now, Nat?” He presses his lips together trying not to smile, but fails.

“Well, it worked. You smiled,” Natasha says. “But seriously, Captain, we need to move in and change things now. Otherwise, everything we’ve done is going to be for naught.”

He rubs his temple. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. But it’s only been a few days.”

“Only takes a few to topple it all down.”

Pepper appears at the entrance to the mess, and he bolts up. “What? What’s happened?”

“He’s awake, Captain.”

Steve doesn’t hear the next comments, doesn’t see Natasha or Pepper, all he knows is that he has to be there. He races through the underground complex, brushing past people, apologizing as he does. It is like the first time in his new body again, awkward and out of control. But he arrives at the medical bay only to find Rhodes at the entrance waiting as the doctors examine Tony.

“He’s awake,” Steve says, breathless.

Rhodes crosses his arms and says, “No thanks to you.”

“Colonel?” He’s startled at Rhodes hard line response.

Rhodes turns all of his attention to Steve. “Let me tell you something, Captain. You’re lucky he survived, you’re lucky he’s awake. You’ll be unlucky if anything untoward happens to him because of this little stunt you pulled. Understood?”

Steve doesn’t have an argument, but nods and says, “Yes, sir I do understand.”

“I’m not a sir, I’m just his friend.”

Steve mutes his reply and enters the rooms as the doctors indicate they can join them. Bruce stands to the side, a pensive and a somewhat worried look shadowing his face.

“What?”

He only shakes his head and lifts his chin to Tony. 

Across Tony’s chest and around his back is the Lichenberg figures, a scar of the lightning strike written on his flesh. Other than that he’s alert and smiling. Other than that, he’s Tony, but not.

“Can someone tell me where the hell I am?”

“You’re on Earth,” Steve says.

“What? No shit? I thought this place was uninhabited?” Tony peers around, and spots Rhodes. “Hey Rhodey, what’s up? What are we doing here?”

“Tony?” He frowns and steps closer, wanting to touch Tony, but somehow knowing it wouldn’t be welcome in the ways he hopes.

Tony fixes his gaze on Steve and smiles. “Hey good looking, you can put your shoes under my bed anytime of day or night.” He smiles and arches his brows.

Steve steps up to the bed and laughs. “God, Tony, I thought-.”

“Tony? We’re on a first name basis? Do I know you?” 

“What? Yes, I’m-.”

Bruce jumps in to save him. “Sir Stark, there’s a lot to fill you in on, perhaps you might want to rest and we’ll discuss after you’ve slept for a while.”

Before Tony answers, Bruce ushers Steve out of the room and guides him to the consult area where there are a few consoles watching over the dozen or so patients in the medical unit of the settlement. He only vaguely remembers this area from his stay here. It doesn’t matter because nothing seems real, everything seems like he’s walking through fog.

“He doesn’t remember me.”

“Steve,” Bruce starts.

“He doesn’t know me, he doesn’t know where he is,” Steve says and knows he sounds frantic, and he needs to stop the rapidity of his heart, the roar of it in his ears, the pain of it constricting his chest. 

Bruce pushes him into a chair and then says, “The nanobots had been located in his brain. He took a significant shock to the brain. This isn’t surprising. The doctors were concerned about a brain injury.”

“That he’d forget me? That he sacrificed everything, that he’d not know what he fought-.” Steve hisses and gulps the rest of the words down. “How much does he know? What does he know?”

“From what the doctors can figure out – he remembers everything up when he had the nanobots first implanted.”

He gulps a bit and then bends over to grab at his knees trying to stay on his feet. “That was years ago. Damn it, damn it to hell. Bruce, you should have warned me this could happen.”

“Would you have done anything different?”

Steve crumples, falls in the chair and can only muster a small no.

“He might remember, eventually, give him time.”

Steve grimaces but nods. “Okay.”

“Are you going to be all right?” Bruce asks as he moves to leave.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

Steve sits alone in the room to the side of all the activity, staring at the screen, spying on a man who doesn’t know him as he interacts and talks with the people he does remember. In the very near distance he can hear the joviality of someone he onced loved, still loves. He knows what heart sick means.

He wonders what it was all for, what his duty is now, and the balled fist clenching and twisting in his stomach sickens him. He’s won the war, but he’s lost everything.

 

Five weeks later, Steve packs up the Commando with Bucky and Natasha along with Clint. Bruce is staying behind as is Thor (his brother Loki is being transported back to Asgard by the Lady Sif), but he’s gained Sam and Maria. They’re headed back to the Inner Belts, Fury’s little band kept the Ultron controlled Elite class at bay and now there’s clean up to be done. Lots of clean up and strategizing. He’s good at strategy and planning so it seems like the best thing to do to keep his mind of recent events. He still needs an engineer, and Peter is campaigning for the position, but a twelve year old just doesn’t sit right as far as Steve is concerned. 

Bucky tried to get him to talk about it, but Steve refused. He’s not one to wallow, and Bucky knows when to back off of a subject. Steve attempted to keep seeing Tony, but it became awkward and painful. Every time Tony looked at him with those eyes, luminous bright, but not recognizing him, shot Steve through to the heart. He would barely make it back to his bunk without breaking down. He left the base ages ago and has been staying on the Commando. He spends hours at his punching bag. He once lost everything to time, now he’s lost everything to duty.

He has to see Tony again today, probably for the last time. They’re moving the crates from the Commando to Tony’s ship. He’s decided to do the honorable thing and say goodbye. It will give him closure and stop the pining (or so he hopes). Tony’s ship will leave today. He’s got a crew picked out, Rhodes, Happy, and Pepper ready to ride. They’re going back to Parson’s as far as Steve knows, though Steve doesn’t know what for, maybe to claim his Corp or other things. He imagines Tony will be getting back into the business again since he doesn’t even have memories of being a Courtesan anymore. He guess this is good, at least Tony will forego the hazards of revolutions.

Steve wipes down the last of the cockpit console. Cleaning up his ship is somewhat of a meditation for him. He’d had Skye come by and disconnect JARVIS. He’ll miss the A.I., he’d been a tremendous help to the ship and crew. He bolts back the panels and screws everything tight. After, he hears someone calling out from the hold below. 

He recognizes the voice and cringes. Taking a deep cleansing breath as Bruce once taught him to do, Steve steps out of the cockpit and says over the comm link. “Be right there, Sir Stark.”

He straightens his shoulders, tells himself he can do this – he’s not a coward, he’s a hero, a warrior. But why does he feel like a little boy terrified of the dark and being left alone? Shaking away the thoughts, he goes to the ladder and climbs down to meet Tony in the cargo hold.

It surprises him that Tony’s alone, no Pepper or Happy or Rhodes trailing after him. Tony stands in the center of the cargo hold, the crates awaiting transfer. He sparkles as always. His beard is trimmed to perfection, his hair coiffed and messy at the same time. He’s wearing a white suit with a burgundy shirt. He looks more beautiful than Steve remembered. 

Tony opens his arms and says, “Captain, it’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, sir, you as well.”

“What’d I tell you about the sir thing?” 

“Sorry, just want to make sure you feel comfortable,” Steve replies and walks over to the console to input the final details regarding the transfer. “You have loaders?”

“Outside,” Tony says and points over his shoulder to the ramp way. “But I asked the movers to hang tight for a minute. I wanted to ask you something.”

Steve licks his lips before he turns around and prepares himself for any query, any quiz. “Yes.”

“Good god, you look so stiff,” Tony says and crosses the space between them, wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders, shaking him with a friendly familiarity. “We had something. I know this much.”

Steve blinks away any threat of pain or memories. “Yes.”

Tony’s arm slips from Steve’s shoulders and he cradles Steve’s hands in his own. “It was special, wasn’t it?” He’s seeking, asking, wanting to know, Steve can read it so easily in his eyes. It pangs deep inside, hurts.

“Yes.”

“Remind me,” Tony says.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Steve says and wants to back away, wants to disappear, wants Tony to leave. Steve needs to escape.

“It is a good idea, I’m tired of everyone babying me, walking on eggshells around my past that I can’t remember. I came to you because I know you’ll be an honorable man. I can trust you to do this for me. I can trust you to remind me.” Tony says, and his eyes search Steve’s face as if every clue to his lost past is written on it. Steve knows it is, it is the simple truth.

In a low whisper, Steve says, “You used to call me all these silly nicknames.”

“Like?”

Steve half smiles and lifts a shoulder. “Captain my Captain, Capsicle. My dearest Captain.”

“I had it hard for you,” Tony says.

“Yeah, I did too,” Steve says and wants to scream, _I do, now, right now._ but he keeps his mouth shut.

“I call you anything else?” Tony says.

Steve recalls Tony only calling him by his proper name a handful of times, it meant something – it meant love and tenderness and forever. Steve frowns and shakes his head. “No, nothing else.”

Tony nods, releasing Steve, shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, Captain, it was nice knowing you. For what it’s worth, I wish I remembered you.”

“Thank you,” Steve says. “I’m eternally grateful for you coming into my life. I always will be.” And Steve knows it is the truth.

“Okay then,” Tony says and nods again, the awkwardness falling over them like a veil. “I’ll be seeing you.” He starts toward the ramp and Steve watches him, his heart thudding, pounding, and emptying him of every ounce of strength.

“Goodbye, Tony,” Steve says and grits his teeth against the impending loss. 

As he descends, Tony replies, “Goodbye, Steve.” He stops as if he’s forgotten something – or remembered something. “Steve.”

Steve looks toward Tony who’s halted on the ramp way. “Tony?”

“Steve,” Tony says and turns around inch by inch. “I didn’t call you, Steve?”

Steve chokes back the stab of pain, hot and thick in his throat. “Only rarely.”

“Steve,” Tony says, and then repeats it again as if he’s testing it out, as if there’s taste to the word and he’s trying to recall where he might have sampled it before. “Steve.”

Steve inhales and holds it, trying desperately not to react, wishing for Tony to leave. 

Tony walks up a step on the ramp way. “Steve.”

“Can you stop?” Steve says and knows he looks wrecked, a ruined caricature of who he used to be. 

“No, no,” Tony says and tilts his head and his focus goes hazy as if he’s lost in thought. Steve stops breathing, but this time it isn’t in pain, it is in hope. 

“Tony,” Steve mouths the name but no sound comes out. “Please.”

Tony’s head pops up to attention as if he’s heard Steve’s voiceless plea. “It meant something.”

“It’s my name. What else could it mean?” Steve hears the strain in his own voice, fighting for control.

“I think” Tony says and climbs a few steps back up the ramp. “I think it meant more, I think it meant something else. What?”

“Don’t ask me that,” Steve says and averts his gaze.

“Why?”

“Just don’t.” He fists his hands at his sides. He can’t force what isn’t there anymore.

“It meant something special, didn’t it?” Tony says and waits.

“Good day, Sir Stark,” Steve says and holds his ground. 

Tony, standing so rigid, deflates. The moment breaks and Tony shakes it away. “Goodbye, Captain.”

He departs and Steve turns back to the console finishing off and escaping back into the ship proper to ensure he doesn’t run into Tony again. Later that evening he hears that Tony’s ship launched. He falls back in his quarters, staring into the darkness, recalling the whole universe at his fingertips. Instead of staying in the Captain’s cabin, he slips out and finds his way to the guest quarters. It’s empty, all of Tony’s belongings were removed weeks ago, and now he’s gone. 

Steve yanks the bed out of the wall, turns the lights off, and lies down. It doesn’t help, lying here reminds him of everything he’s lost. He remembers this despondency when he’d lost his mother. He’d had nothing then, only the cold harsh memories of the last hours, listening to her ragged breathing. 

He lies like that, staring into the nothingness for hours, trying to clear away the images of past lives, so he can move forward into the future.

It becomes clear over the next few days that he’ll not be able to find a decent engineer. He attempts to find Bruce all to no avail. He supposes the man has moved off to the more distant settlements on Earth. He doesn’t blame him, Steve wants to put everything behind him as well.

With the last load stored, he does his final inventory and decides it’s time to launch. He’ll feel better once they are underway. He’ll act as engineer until they get to the Inner Belts. Rumor has it an Elite class engineer by the name of Reed Richards is looking for a gig. With Clint’s new trick to skip through dimensions they can make it there in a little under ten days. It shouldn’t be too hard to keep the engine functioning.

Natasha and Clint come aboard along with Sam and Bucky. As they stow their baggage, Steve turns to greet Maria when behind her, Tony appears on the ramp way, a bag slung over his shoulder, his hands stuffed deep in his jeans’ pockets.

“Heard you were looking for an engineer.”

“I don’t think-.” Steve doesn’t like to be played, or toyed with at all. 

“Captain, you need an engineer, and I’m the best in the business. What better deal are you going to get?” Tony winks at him. “Plus I’m a little uncomfortable right now with my current occupation, whatever that is.”

“I have a line on an engineer, Richards in the Inner Belts.”

Tony waves him off. “Please, Reed Richards, no, you don’t want him. A load of trouble that guy. Likes rubber way too much. Trouble, I tell you trouble.”

“Yeah, like you weren’t,” Bucky mutters and moves off.

“I think we can manage,” Steve says. “I’m filling in.”

“And that will go over well,” Natasha smirks and hoists herself up the ladder to the cockpit. As she makes the landing, she calls down, “Welcome aboard, Stark, get my engine in gear.”

Tony salutes her. “Aye, aye, will do.” He turns back to Steve. “Where can I put my stuff?”

“Back on your ship, wait, didn’t you launch already?” Steve asks.

“Sure did, few days ago. Bruce was all happy about it, hitched a ride. They’re going to the Rims on a humanitarian mission.” 

“I thought you were going back to Parson’s to get the Corp back under your control,” Steve says, he feels like he’s been slammed into a brick wall. 

“Yep, Pep’s on her way, stopping by there on the way to the Rims. It’s all settled,” Tony says and practically beams at him. 

Clint snickers and disappears, following Natasha. Sam and Bucky hover in the background while Hill just kind of fades into the ship. Steve peers over his shoulder at Sam and Bucky, glaring at them and they both get the message and make themselves scarce as well. 

Scratching at his forehead and then dropping his hand, he says, “Listen, Stark, I get that you’re interested in getting your memories back, but this is not the best way.”

Tony doesn’t listen, but wanders over to the engineering room and stows his bag. Steve yanks it out and sets it back on Tony’s shoulder. “I appreciate that you want to help out and everything, and that you need to get your memories back, but I’m running a ship here and I’m on a fairly important mission to re-establish a government.”

Tony drops the bag. “This bucket of bolts needs an engineer. Stop being an ass and let me help.”

“I am not interested in having you on board,” Steve snaps. “I think you should leave, now.” He snatches up Tony’s bag and marches back to the main hold. “Get out.”

Bucky and Sam are back in the hold and startle as Tony trails after Steve. 

Steve nearly growls in frustration and says, “Please, I’m sorry, but I need you to leave.” He cannot stand another moment of that dazzling face, the need, the want, the ache. He needs Tony to leave now.

Tony lowers his gaze, nods, and says, “Okay, good, I’ll do that for you. Sure.” He reaches down and picks up his bag. “Can I say one thing before I go?”

Steve relents. “Sure, why not?” 

“Steve.”

The word is soft and purposeful, like a timed note played on a piano to signify the end of a song, a melody, a piece of art and music. He doesn’t have to repeat it, because it plays long and strikes deeply, sinking into Steve, through his flesh to his bones, to his very heart. 

The word pierces so profoundly it robs Steve of any reply and leaves the next step to Tony. He crosses the distance between them and cups Steve face in his hands. “Steve,” he repeats.

Steve can’t stop, there’s no way he can. It would be tantamount to halting the takeoff of a ship with his body. He leans down and presses forward, and the first touch of lips promises everything. He wanted this, begged for it in his sleepless nights, this is his freedom from fear, this is his promise of a better future. This is what he desires and dreams for in the darkness.

When he breaks from Tony, Steve leans his forehead onto Tony’s and says, “You remembered.”

Tony kisses lightly and then answers, “A bit.”

Steve asks, “A bit?”

“Captain, my Captain,” Tony says and laughs. “I know that I love you. I feel it in my bones, in my absentee heart, in my blood. I love you. I might not remember every detail. Things are still hazy in there.” He leans in and nips at Steve’s throat. In a rasp of hunger, he says in a whisper, “But I remember the best parts.”

“The best parts?”

“I remember you, Steve, and that’s all I need to remember. Let me stay, don’t make me beg.”

“Tony, I-.”

“I’m pretty when I beg, do you want me to beg?” Tony says with a sly smile.

“No, no I don’t want you to beg,” Steve says. “Okay, okay you can stay.”

Bucky walks past them and says, “This is all kinds of a bad idea.”

“This was your idea in the first place, as I recall,” Steve throws back at him. Bucky only snorts in reply and, with Sam in tow, goes up to the main deck. 

Hanging onto him with arms wrapped around his neck, Tony rocks back and forth and says, “Where should I put my stuff, oh Captain dearest?”

Smiling, so much it hurts, Steve mutters, “I think I’m going to regret this.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Captain,” Tony lines his jaw with light kisses. “I don’t think so at all.”

CONSUMATUM EST (It is Finished).

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow me on [ tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com)
> 
> A fierce thank you to all have followed this story! You, dear reader, have made this all worth it!! **THANK YOU**
> 
> An example of Courtesan Formal wear: [Courtesan Formal wear - rated G](http://winterstar95.livejournal.com/151677.html)
> 
> I received a wonderful surprise on tumblr [See a NC17 rated illustration](http://myslightlydirtymind.tumblr.com/post/78167360289/woot-take-it-ooooooff-so-here-are-my-options). Thank you so much 'myslightlydirtymind'.
> 
>  
> 
> Please see the beautiful cover artwork for this story, created by the lovely digitalwave: [ cover art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1383673).  
> ***A/N:  
> Chapter 21, 22 and 24 contain graphic depictions of torture. [spoilery pics](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com/post/96400999660/myslightlydirtymind-for-the-wondeful)
> 
> Thank you all for your dedication to this story. It is finished. Goodnight, goodday, and so long......


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